Finding a New Family
by CrazyJanaCat
Summary: After Sirius died, Harry has enough and he decides to leave. With the money he has saved up in Gringots, he buys a ticket to America and leaves without a single word to anyone. When he meets two strange brothers he somehow ends up joining them in their search for their missing father while also learning to hunt. When they find out Harry is a wizard, will they still be able to trust
1. Get Out Alive

**Another HP x SPN story for you guys.**

 **No pairings have been decided yet, so let me know what you guys think. Any and all reviews are welcome of course, as always, so don't be afraid to let me know what you think! Tips, any ideas for how you want the story to go... Just let me know!**

* * *

Harry stared in the distant, unseeing of the people hurrying around him, talking in worried whispered tones. Sirius was dead. Sirius was dead and it was his fault.

They were at Gimmauld place, the fight at the Department of Mysteries had just gone about an hour, maybe two ago. Harry's fight with Voldemort, his attempt at torturing Bellatrix Lestrange (no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't feel bad about using an unforgivable and that only made him feel worse) and Sirius' death… it was all just two hours ago. It already felt like an eternity.

The seat shifted, meaning someone had taken the empty spot next to him. Harry looked over, dull green eyes meeting with haunted amber of his ex-professor and the last remaining friend of his father. Harry had had a feeling it would be Remus to come talk to him, after all, his own friends had been sent back to Hogwarts directly from the Ministry while Harry was shipped to Grimauld. Why that was, he was unsure, but he didn't particularly care at the moment. He didn't want to see any of them anyway. they'd probably hate him for nearly getting them killed for no reason at all. for getting Sirius killed…

"It's not your fault, Harry," Remus sighed, already aware of what was going on in Harry's mind.

"Yeah, it is," the teen mumbled quietly.  
"I led everyone in there. Everyone told me this would happen, and I still walked into the trap. Sirius-"

Harry chocked on a sob at the memory of his godfather disappearing into the Veil right beside him. One moment he was there, the next, Harry had lost another person close to him. A pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around him and his face was pressed against a familiar chest.

"It's not your fault, cub," Remus whispered.  
"Padfoot knew the risks, it's not your fault."

"Doesn't feel like that," Harry replied brokenly.

"I know it doesn't, but everything will be fine, I promise."

. . . . .

The next morning, Harry was up very early, or very late considering he hadn't had a wink of sleep. He'd just sat there, on his bed in the empty room. He sort of missed Ron's snoring and the feeling of comradery he had in Gryffindor tower, though he was also glad to have some time alone. He needed to be able to mourn his godfather after all.

He heard voices downstairs, meaning they were probably having an Order Meeting. Anger flared in him at the thought they were going behind his back _again_. Wasn't that what had gotten them in all this trouble in the first place? How could they treat Harry like a kid while still expecting him to save them all? How was he supposed to defeat Voldemort if they kept everything important a secret.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he heard Remus' voice, sounding suspiciously like he was repressing his anger.

"The boy just went through hell, Albus!" Molly Weasley's voice cut through the empty hallway.

"I know it might sound harsh, but with Lord Voldemort out there, Harry is safest with his relatives," the headmaster spoke calmly.  
"The bloodwards will protect him, and we can work out what to do with the boy _peacefully_."

"The bloodwards, fine, but that's not a reason why we should cut him off from everything for another summer," Remus bit out.  
"We've already seen how that worked out, and I won't see the boy miserable again."

"Nonsense. Harry is perfectly happy with his family," Dumbledore dismissed.

Harry scowled angry and balled his fists. He wasn't 'perfectly happy' with his relatives. He wasn't even moderately happy! Dumbledore knew that. He'd told him about the neglect and the occasional beatings he received. How could the man possibly say that Harry was safe, let alone, _happy_ with a family that would probably hold a party if he died?

"By the end of the week, he'll go back to Hogwarts and after school ends, he'll take the train back to London and stay with his aunt and uncle," the headmaster said with finality.  
"It's the best place to be for Harry."

Harry heard enough. With a heavy heart, he returned to his room before anyone could notice his presence. They were sending him back to the Dursleys and nothing he could do or say would change Dumbledore's mind. Harry almost felt like crying in frustration. He had gotten so close to having a real family, and now Sirius was dead.

He didn't know how long he sat on his bed, staring ahead of himself before the door of his room creaked open. Slow, heavy footsteps moved towards him and the bed dipped. Remus gave a deep sigh as he sat down next to him and looked at Harry worriedly.

"You alright, cub?" he asked quietly.

For the longest time, Harry stayed quiet, just staring with blank, unseeing eyes while his honorary godfather sat next to him. The werewolf was patient and waited in a comfortable silence until Harry would acknowledge him. He had time after all, so let the boy do this at his own pace.

"You're sending me back."

Remus looked over in surprise at the statement. Harry was still not looking at him, but his brows had creased in an angry glare that he had aimed at the wall opposite. He sighed and shook his head sadly.

"So you heard," he muttered.  
"Look, I'm not happy about the arrangement, but-"

"Do you know what it's like?" Harry suddenly asked.

He turned towards Remus, killing curse green eyes staring coldly at the werewolf.

"Do you know what it's like to be locked in a tiny room for two months, only allowed to come out for chores and bathroom breaks?" Harry asked again.  
"They feed me once a day, and that's when I behaved like they want me to. When I do something wrong, or 'freakish' they hit me."

Remus stared in shock. He hadn't known any of this of course. If he had, he would have put up more of a fight at Dumbledore's plan. Dumbledore… it couldn't be that the headmaster knew of this, otherwise he'd have done something about it a long time ago.

"If we tell Dumbledore-" Remus started, but Harry shook his head.

"I told him all this in first year," he replied darkly.  
"He just dismissed me. He always does."

Remus frowned. He remembered what Dumbledore had said 15 years ago. How Harry would grow up humble thanks to his muggle relatives, how it was better for Harry not to know anything about the Wizarding World until the time came that he should come to Hogwarts. Remus had been strongly against it back then too, but as a werewolf, he would never have been able to demand custody. He still wouldn't be able to.

"I want to leave," Harry mumbled.  
"Have a normal life for once, even if it's just for a while."

"And if there's anyone who deserves that, it's you, cub," Remus agreed.

The two stayed in silence for a while longer, before Remus thought of something. Hesitantly, he turned back towards Harry.

"Do you- do you really want to leave?" he asked carefully.

Harry looked back at him sadly and nodded.

"Well… I might know somewhere for you to go without anyone chasing you down. At least for a little while," he started almost reluctant.

Harry perked up, his green eyes wide and hopeful as he stared at his honorary godfather.

"Really? Where?" he asked eagerly.

"I have a cousin, a muggle, but she knows about us, who lives in America with her husband and kids."

America. Harry thought about it for a moment. Who would look for him in America? No one as far as he knew. Besides, if he would be staying away from any Wizarding society, it would be hard to track him down anyway. Owls would still be able to find him, but he was planning on keeping in contact with Remus anyway, and he'd just have to hope for the best. He didn't think he would stay hidden forever, but even if it were just a small vacation, it'd be more than he had ever had.

"Can you call her and arrange that I go to her?" Harry asked hopeful.  
"Before Dumbledore comes back for me, please?"

Remus smiled weakly and nodded.

"I'll try and explain as much as I can," he told Harry.  
"I'm sure she'll be willing to take you in as soon as possible."

Harry smiled grateful at the werewolf. He'd be out of here soon.


	2. Something Wicked

Harry walked out into the meeting hall of Dane County Regional Airport. His entire body was stiff and exhausted from the nearly ten hour flight from London to Madison. Hedwig ruffled her feathers as Harry carried the cage and his small bag filled with everything he needed towards the crowds of people. It had been a hassle to get the bird on the plane, but with a bit extra money, one could accomplish a lot. Still, the owl seemed to be glaring at Harry, probably unhappy with him for allowing the vets to give her a shot against diseases or the dark space she and other animals had been kept in.

He looked around himself, scanning the many unfamiliar faces of friends and family of the passengers from the London flight. At last, he spotted the woman holding up a white paper with 'Harry P.' written on it. Smiling, Harry approached the lady.

"Harry?" she asked in greeting.

"Yes madam," Harry replied with a small smile.

The woman smiled at his good manners and lowered the paper. Harry took the moment to study her a bit. She looked just a few years younger than Remus, so she was likely in her early thirties and she had blond hair and blue eyes. She wasn't bad looking, but she wasn't anything special either.

"Remus told me a bit about you," the woman said.  
"My name is Sandra Wilson, by the way."

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilson," Harry said brightly.  
"Thank you very much for letting me stay with you for a while."

"That's fine, but I have to warn you, my husband and daughters don't know about magic. I've always told them my uncle and Remus were simply odd and eccentric, so I have to ask you to keep it hidden."

"I understand Mrs. Wilson," the teen replied.

"Just call me Sandra, sweetheart," the woman chuckled.  
"Now let's get home and get you settled. Bethany has been really excited about you coming."

Harry blushed a bit at that and followed the kind lady to the parking lot. He was led towards a silver minivan and couldn't help but smile. It reminded him of his own dreams for the future, where he'd have a nice wife, two or three kids and a car just like that. A normal, white picket fence life, just like the Wilsons.

"Get in, sweetheart," Sandra ushered him.

Harry nodded and put his bag and Hedwig's cage into the trunk before he moved to the passenger seat. Before he could open the car door, Sandra stopped him, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

"This is America, Harry," she said.

For a moment, Harry didn't understand what she meant by that, but when he realized his mistake, he blushed. Ducking his head in embarrassment, Harry walked over to the other side of the car and went to sit. Sandra laughed in amusement at his mistake and entered the driver's seat.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"No problem! I'm sure I would have done the same if I were to go to England."

The ride to town was filled with mindless chatter. Sandra told Harry everything about her family, happy to share her pride with a new person. Her youngest daughter, Bethany, had recently turned six while her older, Mary was ten. She was apparently a spelling bee champion already and a very studious girl. Bethany was more childish, as expected from a girl her age of course.

Her husband, Marc was a hardworking man. He owned the local supermarket and maybe Harry could work there part time if he wanted. Marc was always short a few hands anyway, Sandra told him. Harry had smiled at her and said he'd loved to help out anyway he could.

"You don't see that very often around here, such well-mannered teenage boys," Sandra told him.  
"Honestly, most kids around the area act like wild monkeys. I'm glad to see at least some kids out there still know how to show respect."

"It's just the way I was raised," Harry told her.

If Sandra noticed the bitterness in Harry's tone when he said that, she didn't react on it. The only thing she did was chuckle a bit before focusing back on the road.

Soon after, they arrived at the home. Harry looked at it. The home was spacious, surrounded by a nice garden. It wasn't like the Dursley home, which had been a mirror image of the neighbours with a flower garden that had been measured to perfection, all plants in their right spots, counted on the millimetre (Harry was more aware of this than most, considering he'd planted them like that himself, under careful scrutiny of his aunt of course). It was more natural, friendlier and especially, more personal.

"You have a beautiful home, Sandra," Harry commented honestly as he exited the car.

The woman actually blushed at the praise and waved Harry off.

"It's nothing, really," she replied.  
"I enjoy working in the garden quite a bit."

"I understand," Harry told her grinning.  
"I've always enjoyed gardening myself."  
 _More than most of the other chores at least._

Sandra led him to the front door and walked inside. As soon as the door fell closed behind them, a young girl with two brown pigtails came peeking from behind a corner. As she saw Harry, her eyes widened and she walked closer.

"Are you Harry?" she asked.

"Yes I am. You must be Bethany, right?"

The girl nodded shyly and Harry smiled at her, holding out his hand.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you," he greeted.

The young girl giggled and shook his hand.

. . . . .

"So, Harry," Marc started during dinner.  
"What brought you all the way here in the middle of a school month?"

Harry saw Sandra tense from the corner of his eye, but forced himself to stay calm. He'd gone over the possibility of this question during the flight over and he was sure he had found a good explanation that was at least somewhat believable.

"I'm an orphan, sir," he started, knowing that just mentioning that would earn him some pity points, no matter how much of a blow that was to his pride.  
"I'm raised by my aunt and uncle, but we don't really get along well. They feel like I'm intruding on their life, see and I thought it would be good for me to see some more of the world. I've already finished exams, so they gave me permission to start summer early on, and since I was hoping to come to America for university in a few years, my godfather, Remus Lupin, Sandra's cousin, suggested I stay here for a bit to learn the cultural difference between Britain and the US."

"Ah, well, there are a lot of good colleges around of course," Marc nodded.  
"I never went to any, but Sandra graduated from Concordia University."

"Really?" Harry asked interested.  
"What did you study?"

"Elementary Education," the woman replied.  
"I'm a teacher, or was. A fulltime housewife currently."

"I want to study Law," Harry told the family.  
"Or Social Services. I want to make a difference."

"That's the spirit, boy!" Marc exclaimed grinning.  
"And you've got plenty of time left to think it over."

Harry grinned and nodded. When everyone was finished eating, Harry stood up and started clearing the table waving Sandra away when she tried to take the plates from him.

"Don't worry about it and let me do the dishes," he told her.  
"It's the least I can do for letting me stay here for the summer."

"Oh, no! You're a guest, I can't let you do the work here."

"Please, I insist," Harry pressed gently.  
"I can't stand sitting by the side and doing nothing anyway."

"Well, if you want to stay busy, you can join me at the store tomorrow!" Marc called from the living room.

"I'd love to!" Harry called back grinning.

. . . . .

Hedwig hooted from her cage, waiting for her master to finally let her out of the cage again like he did every night since they'd arrived in America. This had Harry look up from his books. He shook his head clear from all the troubling thoughts and walked over to his pet, smiling apologetically at the magnificent white bird.

"I'm sorry, Hedwig. I guess I was a bit out of it," he whispered as he opened the cage.

The bird ruffled her feathers, gave Harry a stern look and hopped out of the cage. She waited calmly for Harry to open the window before she spread her beautiful white wings and flew off into the night sky. Harry smiled wistfully at the sight before turning back to his research.

He was reading his books with a vigour he hadn't shown in years. He just hoped he could find something that could help Mary. The poor girl had suddenly fallen ill last night with a heavy case of pneumonia and was now at the hospital. Sandra stayed there too, after making Harry promise not to let Marc or Bethany live of microwave dinners while she was gone. After a week and a half, she was less inclined to feel guilty about having him help out with chores. Not after both her daughters had fallen in love with his delicious apple pie.

A scream from the room next to his had Harry drop his books and rush out. That had sounded like Bethany. Fear gripped at Harry as he threw the door open just in time to see a cloaked figure diving out of the open window. The young girl was lying on the bed, unresponsive.

Slowly, harry walked over and pressed a hand on her forehead. Bethany was still breathing, luckily, but she felt too cold. He shook her softly, but that only rewarded him with a weak shudder and a quiet whimper. Heavy footsteps thundered through the hall and seconds later, Marc appeared in the doorway, eyes wide in panic. A dark look crossed his expression when he saw Harry leaning over his youngest daughter and he charged. Harry swallowed nervously and took a step back, already feeling where this was going to end up.

" _What did you do?!_ "

. . . . .

Harry was walking back to the house when he noticed a strange car parked in front. Frowning, he stopped. Sandra and Marc were both at the hospital with their girls, so he was supposed to be home alone at least until tonight. Was someone breaking in?

Careful, he snuck around the house and entered via the backdoor. He made sure to stay completely silent, something he had learned from living with the Dursleys for the past 15 years. He looked around, searched both the kitchen and the living room for the intruders but found nothing. Just when he started thinking he had been mistaken, he heard noises from upstairs. Harry cursed silently. If the burglar would look around in the guestroom, he'd be in big trouble.

He made his way up the stairs as fast as he could without alerting the intruders of his presence. The noises came from Mary and Bethany's room, frowning, Harry snuck over to the door and peeked inside. It were two men, young, mid-twenties if he made a guess. One was really tall, with brown hair and the other was shorter, with short blond hair, but they both seemed like they could easily overpower Harry. The tallest of the two stood next to the window Harry had seen the creature disappear through the other night and he opened it.

"Hey Dean!" the tall one called.

"Yah?"

"You were right. It's not pneumonia."

Frowning, Harry walked into the room. It was time he let his presence be known if he wanted an inkling of what was going on.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

The two men turned around, eyes widening when they saw him. Harry glared at them and pushed his chest out in an attempt to make himself look more threatening.

"We, uh…" the brunette muttered incoherently.

Harry ignored him and walked over to the window, looking down on what the two strangers had been staring at. His eyes widened when he saw the handprint rotten in the wood of the windowsill.

"I knew I saw something," he muttered.

"You saw something? When?" the shorter man asked.

Harry turned around and glared at the speaker. The man didn't back down, he just stared back with narrowed eyes as he gave Harry a once-over.

Harry knew he didn't look like much. He was short and scrawny, with a birds nest on his head and bad fitting glasses that seemed to come from last century. For all Harry knew, that was actually true as the Dursleys didn't want to pay him new ones. His clothes were also baggy on him, making him look even smaller and younger than he actually was. Not really an intimidating picture.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded instead of answering.  
"What are you doing here and what do you know about the creature that has been attacking children."

"Kid, I don't know what you're talking about," the short man started, but the tall one cut him off.

"An answer for an answer. What did you see?"

Harry sighed and looked up at the brunette. He had soft, hazel eyes, he noted, while the other had green eyes a few shades darker than Harry's own. They looked more volatile than the tall one too.

"Not much," he admitted after a short moment.  
"Last night, I heard Bethany scream, so I rushed over to see if she was alright. I was just in time to see a cloaked figure leave through the window."

"Cloaked? Who even still says that?" the shorter man snorted.

"I answered," Harry grumbled, glaring at the man.  
"Now you answer me. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"We're hunters," the tall brunette told him.  
"We hunt down and kill supernatural creatures that hurt humans."

"Sammy!" the short one scolded.

"He deserves to know!"

Harry swallowed nervously as he stared between the two men. Hunters of the supernatural. Did that mean they would also kill wizards? Would they kill him if they knew what he was? Not that he was going to tell them of course. He preferred not to break the Statute of Secrecy.

"So… do you know what hurt them?" he wondered.

"No, I have no idea what leaves a handprint like this," the tall one replied.

Harry frowned and looked back towards the print. The figure had seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't exactly place it. With a glance towards the blond man, he noticed the other apparently did recognize it.

"I know why dad send us here," the man muttered, seemingly forgetting Harry's presence.  
"He's faced this thing before and he wants us to finish the job."

"So what is it?" Harry asked.

"Stay out of it kid," the blonde said.

"Not bloody likely," Harry scoffed.  
"It's hurt innocent people. I'm not going to stand by and watch."

"This gig is dangerous. You're better off here."

"Right," the teen drawled sarcastically.

"How about we go find a motel and we can talk this through?" the brunette suggested.  
"You know a place, kid?"

"Sure. My name is Harry by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Sam and this is Dean."

Harry smiled at him and walked the two men out. As he had expected, the car in front of the house was theirs. They let him come with them for directions and he listened while they talked about what they were hunting.

"I think it's a Shtriga," Dean said.

"What the hell is a Shtriga?" Sam asked.

"It's like a witch I think. I don't know much about them," Dean replied with a shrug.

Harry scowled. That thing looked absolutely nothing like a witch. His thoughts went to Hermione or Mrs. Weasley. Those were great witches, but they looked nothing like the thing last night. Just comparing them with that seemed like an insult to him.

"I've never heard of it, and it's not in dad's journal."

"Does your father's journal have other monsters in it?" Harry asked curiously.  
"Like… werewolves and vampires or something?"

"Sure," Dean replied, looking at him through the rearview mirror.  
"And how to kill 'em too. A werewolf, or any other kind of shifter you off with a silver bullet to the heart."

Harry nodded and swallowed.

"What about witches?" he asked.

"Iron," Sam told him.

Harry nodded gravely. He looked out and noticed they reached their destination.

"We're here," he said.

Dean turned and drove into the motel driveway. They parked the car and all three exited. Without much of a word, Dean went to check in while Sam turned to Harry.

"You want us to drive you back?" he asked.

"No need. I can walk."

With a simple wave, Harry turned around and started walking back from where they had come. It was going to be a long walk, but Harry felt like he could use the fresh air after everything. He scowled in thought. These two men, hunters, killed witches too. But if they considered this Shtriga a sort of witch too, maybe they hadn't come across a real one yet. Harry wondered if he should tell them what he was, if only to make sure they wouldn't accidentally kill an innocent witch or wizard, but at the same time, he feared they'd attack him just on principle.

. . . . .

Harry saw Dean the next morning in the hospital, accompanying the lady from the motel to see her youngest son. He'd never met Asher himself, and the few times he'd met the older kid, Michael hadn't really warmed him up to the boy, but Harry still felt bad about what happened. He wanted this Shtriga stopped before more people could get hurt.

He lingered around idly while Dean was on the phone, eager to find out if the two hunters had found anything useful to stop the creature. As he hung up, Harry walked over. The man had a dark expression on his face as he watched Dr. Hydeker look over Asher.

"Found anything?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," the man muttered, pushing past the teen and approached the doctor.

"So, what's the CDC come up with so far?" Hydeker asked him.

"We're still working on a few theories," Dean replied.  
"You'll know something as soon as we do."

"Let me know if I can help," the doctor told him.

Dean nodded gravely as Dr. Hydeker walked away, expression still dark and furious. Harry's eyes widened when he realized why that was.

"It's him, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded.  
"But you stay out of it. Sam and I are handling this."

"Then what are you going to do? Can you stop him?"

"We'll handle it, kid," the man growled annoyed.

. . . . .

Harry was walking back towards the motel in the middle of the night. Why, he had no idea, but the whole thing kept nagging at him. The Winchester brothers had assured him they had everything under control, but still, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he should check up on them to see if they didn't need any help.

Maybe it was the feeling of uselessness he got from hanging around the house, or the fact that he needed to prove _someone_ he was trustworthy now that the Wilsons believed he might have something to do with their daughters getting sick. Marc refused to let him close to the hospital room they stayed at, and if it wasn't for Sandra's sense of duty towards Remus, he would have been send back to England already. Maybe he could at least prove these hunters he was worth trusting.

As he reached the motel, he walked over to the room he knew the two hunters were staying at. He paused when he heard gunshots coming from the main building and quickly changed course. He cursed himself for not realizing earlier that the next target was Michael. The hunters were probably using the kid as bait or something.

He burst into the room, just in time to see the Shtriga trying to choke Sam while Dean was strewn haphazardly against the far wall. It struck him how much the creature looked like a Dementor and the fact that its ability to suck life from its victims was pretty similar too. Not thinking any further, Harry allowed muscle memory to lift his wand arm and point the wand to the creature.

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled.

A silver stag sprouted from his wand point and charged at the Shtriga. The creature hissed and backed up into a wall, unable to escape the bright light the patronus transmitted. Both Winchester brothers were staring in pure shock at what was happening and Harry even noticed Michael's head pop up from underneath the bed to watch the scene with awe.

"Don't just stand there, shoot the bloody thing!" Harry yelled at the hunters.

Dean seemed to snap out of it first and lifted his gun. He shot several times, each bullet burying itself into the Shtriga's chest without fail and the creature went down. With a relieved sigh, Harry lowered his wand and the stag disappeared. He quickly pocketed his tool, eyeing the hunters warily to make sure neither had seen what he had done.

Once the brothers had made sure the Shtriga was really dead, they turned their heads to Harry. The teen took a step back and gulped nervously as he saw the dark looks on their faces. Maybe they had seen more than he initially thought they had.

"We need to talk," Dean spoke darkly.


	3. Take Me With You

The door slammed closed behind Sam and Dean finally released his grip on Harry's arm. The teen winced as he was shoved into the motel room forcefully and rubbed his no doubt bruised arm with a scowl. As he looked up, he met with a gun cocked at his face and two very suspicious hunters.

"What the hell was that?!" Dean asked angrily.

"That was me saving your arse," Harry hissed back.  
"You're welcome by the way."

"If this is the sort of help we're getting from you then I don't want it!" the older Winchester bellowed.

Harry flinched back. The outburst reminded him of uncle Vernon whenever he suspected Harry had used magic. He partially expected Dean to hit him and call him a freak too, but Sam laid a calming hand on his brother's shoulder and gave Harry a worried look.

"Dean…" the younger one sighed.  
"We don't know what he did yet. Who says it's something evil?"

"It's something supernatural Sam!" Dean shouted frustrated.  
"We hunt things like him! You ever met anything that wasn't evil?"

"Thing- I'm a bloody human!" Harry growled angrily.

He took a step forward, but that had Dean only point the gun more aggressively. Harry frowned and tensed. He had been about to admit he was a wizard, but it was pretty clear in Dean's reaction that he'd more likely get a few bullets pumped into his brain than a proper chance to explain.

"Like hell you are!" Dean hissed.  
"Normal humans don't summon some walking deer nightlight out of nowhere."

"What was that thing anyway?" Sam asked curious, ignoring his brother's outburst.

Harry hesitated. He couldn't tell them the truth, not if he wanted to get out of the conversation unscathed, but he couldn't lie either, not really at least. He wasn't that good of an actor, or creative enough to come up with a believable story. But maybe a half-truth could work.

"I'm not sure, really," he started uncertainly.  
"He just shows up when I need him. saved my life twice already – three times now I guess."

He paused for a moment and frowned in thought. The Winchester boys were staring at him skeptically, clearly doubting his story. Harry knew he had to up his game if he wanted them to believe him because he'd be dead soon if they didn't.

"I-I think it might be my dad…" he added quietly, remembering how he really had believed that during his adventure with the Time Turner.

"You're dad's a stag?" the elder Winchester mocked.

"My parents are both dead," Harry replied dryly, glaring at the other.

The hunters tensed at that. Dean eyed Harry distrustfully while Harry stared back defiantly, daring the older man to call his bullshit. Sam on the other hand gave him a sad, understanding look.

"I'm sorry to hear," he said, his tone soft and honest.  
"We lost our mom too, so we understand how you must be feeling."

"Only _she_ doesn't show up as some spirit animal every time we skimp our knee," Dean muttered, still glaring at the teen in front of him. At least he had put the gun down for now.

"It's not unheard of," Sam told his brother.  
"There are several lores about spirits of the deceased coming back in the form of an animal that best fitted their personality. They are supposed to guide their family members and in some myths even protect them from harm."

"You saying this kid might actually be serious?" Dean asked shocked.

Harry almost breathed out in relief when he saw Sam nod. Instead, he sent the taller of the two brothers a grateful grin, which was returned by a small smile of the hunter. It looked like he had dodged a bullet, literally.

. . . . .

Harry woke up with Sam and Dean packing their bags. The two of them had allowed him to sleep on the couch in their room, since it had been well past midnight last night when they had been done talking. Still, Harry had barely slept any at all. The excitement from the fight had his blood pumping and he realized he'd missed the action before. Harry was simply not made for a calm white picket fence life. His entire being was wired for adventure and even after less than two weeks, he had started craving it almost desperately. Now, he would go back to boredom. More likely back with the Dursleys now that the Wilsons had started looking at him like he was a monster.

"Get up, kid," Dean called.  
"We're dropping you off and then we're outta here."

Harry sat up and scowled. He didn't want to go back, honestly. Not if he was going to end up back in Surrey, locked away in his tiny bedroom. Either starved or worked past his limits. And even if they weren't going to send him back, Harry had to reluctantly admit the white picket fence life wasn't exactly for him. It was nice here, but he just felt an itch to jump in some action. Like hunting.

"No," he said resolutely.

The two brothers paused and looked at him weirdly.

"What do you mean no?" Sam asked confused.

"I don't want to go back," Harry explained.  
"They'll send me back after this. They're blaming me, so they'll send me back _there._ "

That last part was spit out bitterly and the two hunters glanced at each other curiously.

"What do you want us to do about that?" Dean asked frowning.  
"We can't exactly take you with us, right?"

"Yes you can."

The two hunters stared at him in shock.

"Huh?"

"Take me with you," Harry pleaded.  
"I'm fast, I'm a fast learner and I can take a beating. Really, I'm tougher than I look. Just give me a chance to prove it and when you're sick of me you can just leave me on the side of the road. I don't care. I can take care of myself. Have done it for years."

"What? We'd never just abandon you!" Sam exclaimed shocked.

"Great, so you'll do it?" Harry asked hopeful.

"Do what?"

"Take me with you."

"No!" Dean said sternly.  
"Listen, kid, we don't doubt you can stand your own, but this is more than facing down a schoolyard bully. Just stay here, where you're safe."

"That's pretty much impossible," Harry muttered dryly.  
"The Wilsons'll send me back to England and I'm anything _but_ safe there. In fact, I'm pretty sure I have bigger chance surviving when going with you guys than going home."

The two men frowned at that. Sam stopped packing for a moment and sat down on the couch next to Harry. His soft brown eyes watched him worriedly and Harry relaxed a bit at the sincerity he saw in them.

"What's going on, Harry?" he asked softly.

"… Let's just say some very dangerous people are out for my blood," Harry muttered bitterly.  
"Preferably when it's all over the place and not pumping through my body."

"They want you dead?" Dean asked shocked.  
"Why? What'd you do?"

"I was born."

. . . . .

Harry helped the brothers load their bags into the trunk of their car when the motel owner walked up to them. Dean stood up immediately and walked over.

"Hey, Joanna," he greeted.  
"How's Asher doing?"

"Have you seen Michael?" the distressed mother asked instead of answering Dean's question.

"Mom!"

Harry straightened up as well to watch as the ten year old boy rushed over to his now smiling mother and hugged her. He smiled. The Winchesters had saved the boy, and hopefully the other sick children too. killing the Shtriga had already done more than Harry had been able to do in years. All he did lately was getting others killed, like Sirius and Cedric.

"How's Asher?" Michael asked.

"I've got some good news! Your brother is going to be fine," Joanna told the boy.  
"No one can explain it. Its… it's a miracle."

Dean sighed in relief and Harry too relaxed a little more. At least he wouldn't have to worry about leaving the Wilsons without their daughters.

"They're going to keep him for another night for observation," Joanna told them.

"How are the other children doing?" Harry asked a little anxious.  
"Like Mary and Bethany? Are they getting better too?"

"They're all doing good. Some of them will be checking out in a few days," she replied.  
"Doctor Travis says the ward is going to be like a ghost town."

"Doctor Travis? What happened to doctor Hydeker?" Sam asked, feigning surprise.

"He wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something."

Harry bit back a snort. Hydeker was a little more than just sick, considering last he'd seen of the man was when he turned to dust on Michael's bedroom floor. They said their goodbyes before Joanna and Michael left back towards the hospital and the Winchesters drove Harry back to the Wilsons' home to pick up his stuff.

The Wilsons were still at the hospital, and Harry doubted they would be back before nightfall. He left them a letter explaining he had found some long lost relatives who had been willing to take him in and that they shouldn't worry about him and if they could let Remus know he was fine. He thanked them for their hospitality and asked to give his best wishes to the girls along with his hopes that they would get better soon. After that, he grabbed his bags and Hedwig's cage and left.

The brothers stared at him as he brought the snow owl to the car. Harry's lips twitched with the need to smile at the incredulous way they eyed the cage and its inhibitor. Hedwig stared back with disinterested yellow eyes and puffed her feathers a bit as she went right back to sleeping.

"Is that an owl?" Sam asked shocked.

"This is Hedwig," Harry introduced the bird, grinning widely.  
"I've had her since I was eleven, a birthday present from a friend."

"What, a puppy was too normal for ya?" Dean snorted.

"As if my relatives would let me have a dog," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.  
"Hedwig doesn't need a lot of maintenance. I just have to let her out every night so she can hunt and keep the cage clean, maybe clean her feathers once a month and that's it."

"Alright," Dean sighed.  
"As long as she doesn't poop on the car."

Still chuckling, Sam helped him stuff his bag and the cage in the back of the car before Harry crawled into the backseat. Sam and Dean sat in front, both watching him curiously through the rearview mirror, but the teen didn't let their wary gazes deter him. He was determined to prove his worth to these two men, and he was sure he'd be helpful to them if they would just give him an honest chance. He grinned at them.

"So? Where to?" he asked cheerfully.

Harry was more than ready for his next adventure.

* * *

 **Just so you know, I have absolutely no idea how much maintenance is in taking care of an owl. I'm just guessing it's gonna take less than a puppy that needs near constant attention. My cousin has a lot of different animals, and her fiance is a bird specialist, and they're giving a lot more attention to the dogs and cat than all their birds, so... Just my guess of course, never had a bird or a dog myself. Just cats and bunnies.**


	4. Provenance

**Thank you so much everyone who has already reviewed on this story. You are amazing and wonderful people and your support for this and other stories warms my heart. I love you all, so please keep reading and commenting, they always make me happy!**

* * *

"Am I even allowed to be in this bar?" Harry mumbled to Sam.

The tall brunette looked up from where he was researching possible cases and smiled at the teen.

"Honestly, I doubt it, but since the waitress likes your accent so much, she made an exception," the man chuckled.

Harry blushed at the memory. The young woman had been shamelessly flirting with him since the second she found out he was from Britain. It didn't really help that she thought he was 17 thanks to Dean. The older hunter had told her Harry was only weeks away from turning 18. Not old enough to drink, but an adult none the less. Not that he could possibly pass for 17, but the woman was stupid enough to believe it anyway.

Scowling, Harry sipped from his glass of water while Sam inspected another paper. The hunter frowned when he found something and motioned Dean over, who had been flirting shamelessly with some girl at the bar for most of their time in there.

"I think I got something," Sam told his brother.

"Yeah, me too," the older one muttered, glancing back at the floozy at the bar.  
"I think we need a little shore leave. Just a little, what do you think, huh?"

"So what are we today, Dean?" Sam asked with an annoyed sigh.  
"Are we rock stars? Army rangers?"

"Bodyguards of the Queen's nephew," Dean replied, grinning at Harry.

"Couldn't you keep me out of it?" the teen muttered, sinking a bit deeper in his chair in embarrassment.

"If you're working with us, I get the right to use you to pick up girls," Dean replied easily.  
"So, what do you got?" he asked, turning back towards Sam.

"Marc and Anne Telesca of New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago," the taller brother said.

"Mhm."

"Their throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows were locked from the inside."

Dean stopped listening halfway through and Harry snickered. Sam stopped talking with a frown and would have likely scolded his brother, but Harry was ahead of his and snapped his fingers a few times in front of the man's face to get his attention.

"As a prince, you should really be paying more attention to _me_ , instead of some girls," he teased.  
"They might be hired assassins or something here to kill me, or should I go looking for other bodyguards?"

"Shut the hell up you brat," Dean grumbled before turning towards Sam again.  
"Could be just a garden variety murder, you know. Not our department."

"Dad says different," Sam told him, opening the leather bound book both brothers kept to like it was their bible.  
"Look, dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. The first one in 1912, the second in 1954 and the third in 1970. The same MO as the Telescas: the throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside. There is so much time between the murders that no one bothered to check the pattern, except for dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another hunt."

"Alright, it's worth checking out," Dean agreed.  
"But there's no need to do it first thing, right?"

"No, but Dean-"

"Good," the older brother cut off.

He drank the last of his beer in one go and left the table to go back to the girl at the bar. Sam chuckled and shook his head fondly while Harry grinned. As he saw Dean and the girl look over at him, he sat up straighter and did his best impression of Draco Malfoy's haughty sneer, making Sam burst out laughing.

. . . . .

"So if it's not the house, and it's not the people, than it has to be the contents. A cursed object or somethin'," Dean muttered though his hangover.

"The house is clean," Sam replied with a sigh.

"Yeah, I know, you already said that."

"He means the house is empty," Harry butted in.  
"All the furniture is gone."

He and Sam had just swept the whole house themselves while Dean slept his wild night off in the Impala. It surprised him how easy Sam accepted the fact that his big brother was out all night while he did the research and he had done as much as he could to help. In the end, though, Sam had thought Harry more about how to use a computer than actually searching for anything. At least Harry now had his own mail address and they knew the house had no violent history.

"Everything is probably at an auction," Sam spoke up.

"Alright, then we go there."

. . . . .

"Auction, just a garage sale for wasps if you ask me," Dean muttered, grabbing another pastry from the dish and stuffing it in his mouth.

Harry made a face at his behavior. This place was definitely too refined to tolerate someone like Dean Winchester and he couldn't help but glance around nervously to see if someone noticed them. It would be bad if they kicked them out before they could find anything.

"Can I help you?" an irritated voice spoke from behind.

The three of them turned around and Harry tried to make himself a bit more invisible. Dean on the other hand seized the man up unimpressed.

"I'd like some Champaign, please," the older hunter said.

"He's not a waiter," Sam said, glaring at his brother's rudeness.

"I'm Sam Connors, this is my brother Dean, we're Art Dealers with Connors Limited," Sam introduced them, holding out his hand.

"You're Art Dealers?" the man asked skeptically, eyeing Sam's outstretched hand with thinly veiled distain.  
"I'm Daniel Blake, this is my Auction House. Now, gentlemen, this is a private showing and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list."

"Under the name Black," Harry piped up quickly before Dean could open his mouth and ruin their cover.

All three adults turned their attention towards him, all with different looks of confusion, doubt and skepticism. Harry straightened his back and did his best Malfoy impression.

"My father hired them to educate me in American art history," he explained haughtily.  
"So far, I am not impressed at all. This place is nothing like the auctions back home, too much rubbish here."

"And you are?" the man asked coldly.

Harry sent him a cool gaze, silently wishing this was going to work. He stuck out his chin and looked away as if no longer interested in the man.

"Harrison Black," he told him in a bored tone.  
"My father is Lord Black. You must have heard of him if you are a true member of the art society."

Daniel Blake's eyes widened and he nodded nervously. Both hunters were surprise when they noticed the nervous look the man suddenly gave Harry. The young teen noticed too and had to try his best to keep the victorious smirk from creeping onto his face. Instead he sneered.

"I will have you know right now that my father will hear about this," he threatened.  
"Treating me like I am not welcome here. Do you want to be ruined forever?"

"Of course not, young lord," Blake stuttered.

"Good. Then leave me alone," Harry hissed darkly, turning on his heels and walking away.  
"You two! Come with me. I haven't come here to talk to American idiots. I want to see some Art."

The Winchesters jumped to follow him away from the awestruck man, eyes wide as they saw Harry sag a bit in relief once they were out of sight. Dean grabbed his shoulder, looking absolutely shell shocked.

"How the heck did you do that, kid?" he asked.

"I went to an elite boarding school with a lot of stuck up prats," the teen replied with a grin.

"And this 'Black'. You heard his name there too?" Sam asked curiously.

"No. He's my godfather, actually – err… was."

They walked around idly, looking at everything that had the name Telesca written on it in hopes of finding the cursed object. In the end, they paused in front of a painting of a family. A man, his wife, two sons and a daughter. It gave Harry creepy vibes and he couldn't help but compare it to many of the dark artefacts in the Black family home.

"A fine example of the American Primitive, wouldn't you say?" a female voice called out.

The three males turned around to see a handsome woman with dark hair in an elegant black dress walking down the spiral staircase leading up to a second story filled with art and antiquities.

"Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood instead of Grandma Moses," Sam replied.  
"But you knew that. you just wanted to see if I did."

"Guilty," the girl smiled.  
"And clumsy, I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake."

"Sam, and this is my brother, Dean," Sam introduced himself and the other hunter before turning towards Harry.  
"We were hired by the Black family to find American art artifacts."

"The Black family?" she hummed curiously.  
"I thought they were gone forever when that last one killed 13 people."

Harry's expression turned cold and bitter at the reminder. He glared at the woman as both Winchester brothers stared at him in shock.

"My uncle," Harry bit out calmly.  
"Was locked away an innocent man."

"Of course, I'm sorry. So can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam spoke up quickly, glancing at Harry for just a moment.  
"What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?"

. . . . .

Sam was looking over the papers Harry had been able to talk mister Blake in handing them while Dean was sharping a knife and Harry himself was looking through some books about art Sam had gotten him to make their cover more believable.

"So he just handed the providences over to you?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Provenances," Sam corrected absentmindedly.

"Yeah, I told him my father was interested in the Telescas and that he would hear about it if he didn't let me see them," Harry snickered.  
"Honestly, I've never been this happy to have known bloody _Draco Malfoy_ in my whole life! Looks like that prat was still good for something."

"Alright, I think I've got something here," Sam called out to them.

Dean stood and walked over to where his brother was seated and took the paper out of the taller one's hands. Curiously, Harry followed after him to see what they were dealing with.

"Portrait of Isaiah Merchant and his family, made in 1910," Dean read aloud.

"Check the former owners with dad's journal," Sam ordered him.

Harry scrambled to grab the leather journal and handed it over to the oldest of the two brothers quickly, ignoring the glare he received from breaking on the first rules they had set for him. He wasn't allowed to touch, or even come near the little book, nor was he allowed to touch Dean's weapons or come near the Impala without supervision.

"Everyone died right after buying the thing," Dean noted as he looked through it.

"Then it was stored until it was auctioned last month," Sam told them.  
"Where the Telescas bought it."

"So is it haunted or cursed or something?" Harry asked curiously.

"Either way, it's toast," Dean said with a small grin.

. . . . .

Harry wasn't exactly happy he was made to stay behind while the Winchesters broke into the auction house to burn the damn portrait, but he did as he was told and stayed in the motel room. He sighed and turned around on the flip-out couch he had to sleep on, glaring at the two empty beds. He was tempted to just take Dean's bed, but he'd probably kick him out the second they came back and Sam was too nice to steal his bed.

When he heard the door being unlocked, he sat up. He squinted through the darkness of the room to see the two brothers enter. They were whispering to each other, but Harry didn't really bother with trying to stay quiet.

"Did it work?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah, burned to a crisp," Dean replied grinning.

"So, that means we're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah. In the morning, we'll hit the road," Sam confirmed.

"Or not," Dean cut in, his grin turning to a devious smirk.  
"We might stay a few days longer, you know, to give Sammy a chance to hook up with that Sarah."

"Not going to happen," the younger one grumbled.

. . . . .

Harry, Sam and Dean were frantically searching through the auction house while trying to keep a low profile. Not exactly the easiest thing to do when nearing a panic attack.

"How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked frustrated.

"Hey guys!"

"Sarah!" Sam all but yelped in his surprise.

"What are you doing here?" the young woman wanted to know.

"We… we're going to leave town and we wanted to say goodbye."

"What are you talking about Sam?" Harry asked, faking confusion.  
"We'll be sticking around for at least another day or two."

"Oh, by the way, I need to give you those twenty bucks I owe yah," Dean added with a grin as he took out his wallet.  
"Now we'll leave you crazy kids alone. Young master Black over here saw something he might want to buy so we'll be somewhere else."

Harry and Dean quickly made themselves scarce, trying to keep their snickers to themselves at the murderous looks Sam was shooting them. As they were out of sight, they high fived. Mission accomplished.

"That wasn't so hard," Harry commented.

"Depending what you call 'hard'," Dean grunted.  
"Sammy's is as stubborn as a mule when it comes to these things."

They were barely gone from the room or Sam already caught up with them, looking very distressed. Harry and Dean had equal frowns upon their faces as they Sam the tall brunette walk up to them.

"Why aren't you with the auction chick?" Dean demanded.

"The painting," was all the reply he got in return.

"What about it?"

"It's still there, Dean."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. This couldn't be good.

. . . . .

"I'm telling you, man! I'm sure of it," Sam said, showing them the copy of the painting.  
"The painting in the auction house: dad is looking down, than here: dad is looking out. The painting has changed, Dean!"

"So you're saying daddy's stuck in the painting and is handing out Columbian Neckties like he did with his family?" Dean asked.

Harry was tempted to ask what a Columbian Necktie was, but he figured it mean slitting their throats and he didn't want to look clueless in front of these men, so he kept still.

"Yeah, but if their bones are already burned, then how is Isaiah still haunting the painting?" Sam asked.

"Well, if his position has changed, than maybe some other things have as well," Dean suggested.

"Like Easter eggs?" Harry asked, stealing the picture from Dean to take a look himself.

"Yeah," Dean grumbled, stealing the paper right back with a glare at the teen.  
"So tonight we'll go back and check out the painting again. Plus, that gives Sam a chance to crush some more on his girlfriend."

. . . . .

Harry watched warily as Dean rammed into the door of Evelyn's house. It had suddenly closed by itself after Sam and Sarah entered to grab the painting so they could go bury it.

"Dean!" they heard Sam call from the other side of the door.

"Sam! Are you alright?" Dean asked rushed, slamming his fist against the door.

Suddenly, Dean's phone rang. The older man quickly fumbled for it, his attention now elsewhere and Harry took the opportunity, to sneak his wand out of his pocket and aim at the door.

"Alohomora," he whispered.

Quickly, he tried the door, only to find it still locked. He cursed quietly. Some supernatural force had to be keeping it closed.

"Tell me you slammed the front door," Dean spoke in a matter of greeting as he answered the phone.

 _"_ _It wasn't me,"_ Harry heard Sam's voice.  
 _"It was the little girl."_

"Girl? what girl?" Dean asked confused.

 _"_ _From the painting. I think it was her all along."_

Harry's eyes widened and he marched over to the car, uncaring whether or not Dean followed him. If it was the girl, they had to get back to the graveyard, and fast. He jumped into the car and looked back, noting with annoyance that Dean was still trying to get the door open. He stepped back out.

"If that thing doesn't want the door open, it won't bloody open!" he called out.

Dean glared at him, but ignored him otherwise. With a roll of his eyes, Harry got back into the car, the driver's seat this time and noticed with slight relief the keys were still in the contact. Harry had never before driven a car of course, but if Dean wasn't going to help, he'd have to find some way to do this himself. Just the, Dean threw the door open and pushed Harry to the side.

"Move over kid," he growled, getting in the seat himself while Harry situated in the passenger's seat.

"Finally figured out we need to find something else?" Harry sneered.

"Yeah, the kid's doll has human hair," Dean grumbled in reply.  
"And while we're driving, you tell me what you know about spirits."

"My school has a poltergeist problem," Harry murmured in reply.

Dean looked at him curiously, but didn't question him any further as they reached the mausoleum and they quickly jumped out of the car. Harry followed after Dean who was desperately trying to smash the glass keeping the doll inside. Harry swiped his wand, making the glass shatter just when Dean threw his elbow in it.

Dean grabbed the doll and pulled out a lighter, trying to get it to light up, but as that didn't work, Harry quickly grabbed the doll from him. Ignoring Dean's shout of indignation, he threw the doll on the floor and pointed his wand at it.

"Incendo," he muttered.

They watched as the doll caught fire. Harry quickly pocketed his wand and faced Dean, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. The cold look made Harry shiver and he looked away guiltily.

"Don't ask, please," he asked pleadingly.

Still staring silently at Harry, Dean grabbed his phone and dialed Sam's number. Harry watched nervously as it rang. He understood the meaning of the look Dean threw at him. If Sam was okay, than he'd let Harry be, if not, than Harry was sure to follow.

"Sam, you good?" Dean asked when the other picked up.

 _"_ _Not bad."_

Harry could almost cry in relief at that. Sam was alive, and hopefully safe now too. He didn't think he would have been able to handle another death on his conscious, even if he hadn't known the man all that long yet. Dean looked at him again and Harry straightened up, looking at him questioningly. Dean scowled a bit, but he nodded before walking out the mausoleum.

Harry released a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. At least he still had a chance with these brothers. It would be more difficult with Dean keeping a closer look at him – and he didn't doubt the man would with what he had seen him do tonight – but he still had a chance and that was all that mattered to Harry right now.


	5. Dead Man's Blood

Harry followed the two hunters into the cabin and looked around nervously. Someone had died in here, and while Harry definitely had seen his fair share of dead people, it didn't get any better. Especially since the Winchesters suspected this Daniel Elkins was a hunter himself.

While Sam and Dean looked around the place, Harry stayed at the door, watching a bit awkwardly, worried that he might get in their way. He wasn't exactly familiar with crime scene investigations after all, especially not like these two, so he best stayed out of the way. He aimed his flashlight at the floor and noticed something. Frowning, Harry bent down to take a closer look.

"There's salt on the floor here," he announced.

"Like protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled a popcorn' salt?" Dean asked while looking through the dead man's belongings.

"I'm not exactly a specialist on the subject," Harry muttered frowning.

Sam walked over and knelt next to Harry to look for himself.

"It's clearly a ring," he spoke up.  
"You think this guy Elkins was a player?"

"Definitely," Dean replied.

The older Winchester was looking through a book. Harry squinted, not for the first time wishing the Dursleys hadn't been too cheap to buy him the right prescription of glasses. It looked a lot like the journal the brothers were taking anywhere with them. Harry wondered if all hunters had one of those, but he guessed they did, to be able to write down all the monsters they'd come across. Harry frowned a bit. If they found out about him, would he end up in their book too?

Harry decided to leave the hunters to reminisce about the good old days and he walked over to the next room, a bit shocked at the big mess he found there. Everything was thrown over as if there had been a fight or even a small explosion. The windows were broken and blood was all over the place. A bright flash of green light flashed through Harry's mind and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to force the memories to the back of his mind. He could hear his mother's screams.

"Harry?" Sam asked worried.

Harry looked up and smiled weakly at the approaching brothers. Dean looked at him for a second and scowled before passing him by and walking into the room.

"Looks like it was a hell of a fight," he noted.

He spotted something on the floor close to a small puddle of blood and knelt down. Sam, who had been looking through the desk, looked up towards his brother curiously.

"Found something?" the tallest one asked.

"I don't know… some scratches on the floor."

"Death throes maybe?"

Harry shook his head and leaned against the wall. They were acting way too casual for investigating a murder. They were like the people in those police series his cousin Dudley liked to watch. It was pretty disconcerting to the teen.

"Maybe," Dean muttered as he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil.

Harry walked closer to watch as Dean put the paper on the floor and used the pencil to bring the scratches on the floor over. He blinked a few times, impressed that they thought of doing something like this. He, for one, wouldn't have thought about it at all. Then again, he might have been able to use magic to work the scratches out.

"Or maybe a message," Dean said as he picked the paper back up and handed it to Sam.  
"Look familiar?" he asked.

"Two letters, six digits," Sam muttered.  
"The location and combination of a post office box."

. . . . .

Harry was sitting patiently in the car as Sam and Dean went to retrieve whatever was in the mail office box. As the brothers returned, he sat up a bit straighter in the seat, looking curiously as Dean pulled out a letter.

"J.W." the oldest read.

"John Winchester," Sam muttered.  
"You think it's a letter to dad?"

"I don't know. Should we open it?"

All three jumped when someone knocked on the window at the driver's seat. Harry curled into himself in the back as he stared at the older man, shuffling into the far corner as the stranger opened the door of the backseat and sat down next to him.

"Dad?" Dean asked shocked.

"Hey boys-… who's the kid?" the man asked.

"Harry Potter," Sam replied.  
"Picked him during that hunt you send us on. The Shtriga."

"Nice meeting you, sir," Harry mumbled, sticking out a hand.

John Winchester eyed the hand for a moment before turning away and watching his two sons.

"You sure you can trust him?" he asked skeptically.

"Still workin' on it," Dean replied.

"Of course we can trust Harry!" Sam jumped to the teen's defense.  
"He hasn't done anything untrustworthy since we met him."

"Alright, I trust your judgement. For now," John sighed.  
"Now, can I see that letter please?"

Dean handed him the letter without complaint and John read through it. Harry was tempted to read over his shoulder, but he figured that it wouldn't exactly warm him to the elder Winchester, so he stayed quiet, instead just observing the three men.

"That son of a bitch," John muttered suddenly.

"What?" Dean asked.

"He had it this whole time… When you searched the place, did you see a gun? An antique. A colt revolver, did you see it?"

"There was an old case, but it was empty," Dean remembered.

"They have it," John mumbled frustrated.

"You mean whatever killed Elkins?"

"We gotta pick up the trail," John said as he stepped out of the car.

"Wait! You want us to come with you?" Sam asked.

"If Elkins is right, we have to find this gun," the older man replied.

"The gun, why?"

"Because it's important, that's why."

"We don't even know what these things are yet!"

"They're what Elkins killed best. Vampires."

"Vampires?" Dean asked confused.  
"I thought there was no such thing."

Harry frowned. Why wouldn't there be vampires? All the other monsters existed, so why would it be weird that they existed too? Sure, there were only a few left, and he had no idea how many of the small amount ever even bothered with the muggle world, but there were still enough to speak about a race. He'd never met any before of course, but they had covered them along with werewolves and other dark creatures during third year Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I thought they were extinct," John confessed with a sigh.  
"I thought Elkins and the others had wiped them out. I was wrong."

. . . . .

Harry was sleeping curled up in a chair in the motel room. No couch this time and only two beds, where the Winchester brothers were sleeping on. John was the only one awake, listening to the police radio as he waited for any news on the vampires. When at last some news came, he stood immediately and woke his sons.

"Sam, Dean, let's go!" he said.

Harry was immediately awake as well and he sat up straight, stretching out with a quiet yawn.

"Picked up a police call," John said.

"What happened?" a drowsy Sam asked.

"Couple called 911, found a body on the street. Cops got there, everyone was missing. It's the vampires."

"How do you know?" Sam wanted to know.

"Just follow me ok? And leave the kid here."

"What? Why?" Harry demanded.

"Because I said so," John shot back.  
"This is too dangerous."

"I think we passed dangerous several miles ago," Harry muttered crossly.

"Leave it," Dean told him.  
"Just stay here. We'll be back when this is over."

The door slammed closed as the three Winchesters left. Harry crossed his arms and glared at the empty room. With an aggravated sigh, he walked over to Dean's bed and plopped down onto it. If he had to stay behind, than at least he would sleep in a bed.

. . . . .

It was already morning when the hunters returned. Harry, who had taken the time to do some more of his summer homework, quickly pocketed his History of Magic book and watched as Dean started packing a few things.

"Did you get them?" he asked curiously.

"Not yet," Dean grunted.

"Where are you going?"

"To the graveyard, getting Dead Man's Blood."

"Sounds disgusting," Harry muttered, scrunching up his nose.  
"What do you need it for?"

"Is the kid always that nosy?" John asked annoyed.

"Basically, yeah," his oldest son replied with a shrug.

"Apparently, it helps against vampires," Sam answered Harry's question.  
"It's poisonous to them or something."

Harry blinked.

"Oh," he said.

He really should reread that chapter in his schoolbooks again.

. . . . .

Again, Harry was left behind as the Winchesters went to hunt the vampires and get the colt back. This time, however, he was less upset about it. He took the chance to grab his DADA book and thumbed through it, searching for any information about vampires. As he finally found the right page, he grinned and started reading.

 _'_ _Vampires, though creatures of the night they are, are not endangered by sunlight. Direct light will hurt them, but not harm them more than a bad sunburn would. There are strong sunblock potions and salves that allow a vampire to come out in the sun unharmed.  
Due to persecution, both in the magical world and the muggle world, the vampire race is near extinct. Those still alive have mostly chosen for a peaceful co-existence with the Wizarding Community and live of volunteer blood donors and blood potions.'_

Harry skimmed through most of the rest of the text, not exactly interested in the history of vampires or how they 'converted' other humans by sharing their blood. He just wanted to know how to kill them because John had told them only beheading would work and Harry was curious if the wizarding world had more ideas.

 _'_ _To kill a vampire, one must first know to dispel myth from reality. Vampires are not allergic to silver, nor does a stake in the heart vanquish them. The only way to truly kill a vampire is to separate their heads from their bodies.  
In addition, Dead Man's Blood as well as powerful light magic, such as the Patronus charm can act as poison to them, and they are mostly immune to many spells. Stunning and binding spells may work only if the caster uses enough force behind the spell and only for a small amount of time.'_

With a sigh, Harry closed the book and put it away. He had always known that several dark creatures, such as werewolves for example, had a tougher hide than wizards and were naturally protected against most magical attacks, but to find that vampires were this powerful was pretty scary.

He looked towards the door and frowned. Should he go find the Winchesters and help out? If the Vampires were that strong, surely they could use some extra help, right? Making up his mind, Harry jumped off the bed and walked out of the motel room.

. . . . .

Harry watched as John was tossed around by the leader of the vampire gang and gritted his teeth. He wanted to help, but could he risk being found out like this? What would John do to him if he knew Harry was basically one of the beings he hunted? The older hunter seemed more stuck in his black and white hunter world than his sons were.

Just as he was about to get out of hiding, Dean and Sam appeared from deeper in the forest and they rushed to their dad's aid. Harry looked on nervously, noticing how Dean shot two vampires with arrows dipped in Dead Man's Blood before he grabbed a machete to help his brother, who was currently used as a human shield by their leader. The other two vampires still standing moved towards Dean's back and Harry quickly lifted his wand.

"Repello Inimicum," he muttered, creating a protective wall between the hunters and the vampires.

Satisfied that the Winchesters should now only deal with one of them, Harry leaned back a bit to make sure he wouldn't be spotted. A loud shot rang through the trees as John Winchester used the colt, which apparently could kill anything, and shot the vampire holding Sam.

One of the two standing females screamed as the vampire went down and smashed her fists against the protective wards Harry had set up. Harry winced at the shocked looks Sam and his father sported. Dean, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes and focused almost immediately on Harry's hiding spot. The teen swallowed and crawled a bit deeper into the bushes, hoping he hadn't seen him but knowing it would be too much to ask with his luck.

. . . . .

When the Winchesters returned to the motel room early the next morning, Harry was already back and lounging on a bed. He watched the two brothers warily, but gave a breath in relief at the bright smile Sam gave him. That feeling was gone almost immediately when he noticed Dean watching him. He cleared his throat nervously and jumped up.

"So, we're leaving again? You get the vampires?" he asked.

"Yeah, we did," Sam told him grinning.  
"Also figured out the colt works, so…"

"Now you have something to kill that demon you're all hunting," Harry finished smiling.

The door to their motel suddenly opened and John walked in. He gave a small pause at seeing Harry, but quickly set to ignore him and walked up to his boys.

"You ignored a direct order," he spoke lowly, glaring at his two sons.

"Saved your ass," Dean reminded him calmly.

"You're right," he muttered.

"I am?" Dean seemed surprised at that.

"It scares the crap out of me. You boys are everything I've got, but I guess we are stronger as a family. So we go after this damn thing. Together."

"Yes sir," Sam and Dean replied in chorus.

Harry grinned. Things were really getting interesting now.


	6. Salvation

Harry watched from the corner of the room as the three Winchesters talked about the demon. John had just told them everything he knew about the demon, and Harry had to admit the thing had an impressive track record. Terrifying really. Maybe even worse than Voldemort.

"It's going after families again, with kids when they're six months old," John said.

"I was six months old that night?" Sam asked softly.

"Exactly six months," John replied, nodding.

"So, this demon is going after kids when they're six months old for some reason?" Sam asked, voice thick.

Harry frowned. He knew the anguished look Sam had in his eyes. Guilt. The man blamed himself for his mother's death. The teen stood up and walked over, laying a hand on Sam's arm in comfort. He knew what it felt like to blame yourself for something like that.

"It's not your fault," Harry muttered.

"Yeah? Because it kind of sounds like it is," Sam sneered.

"My parents were brutally murdered when I was 15 months old because their killer was after me," Harry told him frowning.  
"Are you saying it's my fault they died?"

Sam's eyes widened in shock. He looked at Harry weirdly before slowly shaking his head.

"Why was some guy after you?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Why was a demon after Sam?" Harry snapped back.  
"Last time I checked, psychopaths don't really need a reason."

"How about we focus on the problem at hand?" John suggested, though he still eyed Harry warily.

"Right. So how do we find the demon?" Dean asked.

"There are signs. It took me a while to figure it out, but signs crop up in one area about a week before the demon strikes. They're starting again."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"Salvation Iowa."

. . . . .

"Alright, there are two hospitals and a health center in the city. We'll split up to cover more ground," John ordered.  
"The kid's gonna stay with one of you, and you're not letting him out of your sight, got it?"

"I'll take him," Sam volunteered immediately.

He grinned at Harry and the teen smiled back gratefully. At least with Sam, he didn't feel like he was under surveillance all the time.

. . . . .

Harry was bent over the birth certificates, writing down every name of a child born six months ago. There were quite a lot and he was honestly happy that Sam was there to do half the work. He pitied Dean, who had to do this all on his own in the hospital on the other side of town. The fact that John was doing the large workload without help only made him smile. The bastard treated Harry like a criminal, so he didn't feel bad for him at all.

"I think we got everyone," Sam said after several hours.

With a nod, Harry stood up and followed the hunter out of the building. Harry was almost skipping at this point, happy for the fresh air that greeted him when he came back outside. He never really was the most studious person. That was more Hermione's thing. No, give Harry action and excitement and he would be happy.

Sam groaned and pressed his hands against his head. Harry, who had been walking two steps ahead of him, stopped and turned around, eyes widening in worry when he saw what was going on.

"Sam? Are you alright?" the teen asked.

Sam didn't reply. He doubled over with another groan of pain, his breathing labored as he tried to blink the pain away. Harry rushed up to him, grabbing his arm as support while Sam continued to blink rapidly as if trying to expel something from his sight… Harry swallowed and cursed himself when he realized what it meant. After all, he had gone through the same thing not even a year ago.

"Is it… are you having a vision?" he asked quietly.

Just then, Sam straightened up again. He frowned at Harry's question and looked down at the much shorter teen.

"Yeah… how'd you know I had them? We never told you."

"Don't need to," the kid replied with a wry smile.  
"I know the signs… had them too till a while ago."

"You did?" Sam asked curiously.

Harry nodded nervously and looked away.

"So… what did you see?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation back to Sam.

"A nursery," Sam replied.  
"I think it's where the demon is going to strike next."

The hunter grabbed a map from his bag and looked it up, his hand flitting over the train tracks until they went parallel with a certain street. Harry frowned and leaned in a bit. Grace Avenue.

"C'mon," Sam said to him.  
"I know where we need to go."

. . . . .

Sam looked around himself a bit uncertain until he spotted a certain house. He nudged Harry and walked over to a woman with a stroller walking up to the house. Harry followed after him.

"Hi, hello," Sam greeted cheerfully.  
"Such a gorgeous baby! Is she yours?"

The woman smiled and nodded, looking first at Sam and then at Harry, who also smiled at her.

"I'm Sam, and this is my little brother Harry," Sam introduced them.  
"We just moved in up the block."

"Hi," Harry greeted awkwardly, afraid to say more and ruin their cover with his British accent.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Monica and this is Rosie," the woman greeted.  
"Welcome to the neighborhood."

"So, how old is Rosie?" Sam asked curiously.

"Six months today, actually."

Harry and Sam looked at each other. It seemed like they had found the right house.

. . . . .

"A vision," John muttered disbelievingly.

"Yes. I saw a woman on the ceiling being burned by the demon."

"And you think this will actually happen because…"

"Because they always happen exactly the way I see them," Sam replied.

"It started out as nightmares, but now he's got them during the day," Dean added as he stood to get himself a drink.

"It's like they're getting stronger whenever I get close to something involving the demon," Sam muttered.

Harry's eyes widened in shock at that and he sat up straighter.

"A blood bond," he whispered.

Unfortunately, he had been loud enough for Sam to hear, while both Dean and John kept talking.

"When were you gonna tell me about this?" John demanded to know.

"We didn't know what it meant," Dean shrugged.

"If something like this happens to your brother, you call me!"

"Call you? Are you kidding me?" Dean asked incredulously.  
"Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Sam called you when I was dying. Getting you on the phone, I got a better chance at winning the lottery."

"Look, vision or no vision, this demon is coming tonight," Sam cut in.  
"And these people are gonna go through the same hell we went through."

Suddenly, Sam's phone went off. With a sigh, the tall hunter grabbed the cell and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

 _"_ _Sam?"_ a female sounded through.

"Who is this?" Sam asked, though his face said he already knew the answer.

 _"_ _Think real hard. It'll come to you."_

"Meg."

. . . . .

"So you think Meg is a demon?" Sam asked.

"Either that, or she's possessed by one," John replied.  
"It doesn't really matter, I'm still going to Lincoln."

"What?" Dean asked confused.

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die. Our friends die."

"Dad, that demon is coming for Monica and her family tonight," Sam reminded him.  
"That gun is all we got! You can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John replied.  
"Besides us and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun."

"So what? You'll just pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Antique store."

. . . . .

Harry joined Dean, on his request to buy an antique gun while Sam and John prepared for the demon. It had surprised the teen that Dean wanted him around at all, since the oldest brother was very suspicious of Harry ever since the whole thing with the spirit inside the painting a while back.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Harry asked as they looked for the right gun.

"Who says I want to talk?" Dean bit out, glaring at Harry.

He didn't fool the teen. His jaw was hard and his shoulders tensed and he kept glancing at him from the corner of his eye as if he expected Harry to do something.

"Either that or you think I'll kill Sam if you look away," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.  
"Which I won't, just to be clear. It'd be stupid to want to kill him if all I had to do was sit back and not intervene."

"Fine," Dean sighed.  
"I wanted to talk to you."

Harry swallowed and nodded. He'd expected this of course. There was no way Dean wouldn't demand answers, though Harry still was unsure whether he wanted to give them. They'd probably send him away, or worse, kill him if they knew he was one of the things they hunted.

"I'm not gonna ask what you are," Dean told him, guessing what it was that made Harry so nervous.

"You're not?" Harry asked surprised, though he tried to hide it, his relieve still bled through his voice.

"I figure it's none of my business, at least as long as you don't use it against me and my family."

"I won't. Ever. Not even when you sent me away again, and we both know it'll happen at some point. That, or they'll find me," Harry said.

"Yeah, not gonna ask about that either," Dean muttered reluctantly.  
"But what I do need to know is when we should expect the drawback."

"The what?"

"The drawback," Dean repeated.  
"Things like this always have one so don't act as if they don't."

"They don't," Harry said offended.

"Right," the hunter said, rolling his eyes.  
"Listen, It's none of my business, but dealing with demons, or whatever else you did to get these powers-"

"I didn't!" Harry shouted frustrated.  
"Merlin! I'm not an idiot! I'm born with my abilities. No drawback, no evil force ready to collect. I didn't even know demons existed until I met you!"

"Huh," Dean muttered thoughtfully, looking at Harry with wide eyes in shock and curiosity.  
"Kid, you're making damn hard not to ask more questions, you know that?"

Harry sighed tiredly. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded his head.

"Yeah," he muttered quietly.  
"I know, and I'm really sorry."

. . . . .

Harry was sitting in the backseat of the Impala, watching the house while Sam and Dean sat in the front pretty much doing the same thing. It was dark, and Harry had to admit the tense atmosphere that hung around the brothers since their dad had gone off to meet with Meg with a fake Colt made him restless. He really hoped they'd let him help out this once.

"Maybe we can tell them there's a gas leak," Sam suggested after a while.  
"That might get them out of the house for a few hours."

"And how many times has that actually worked for us?" Dean asked.

Harry snorted. It was the oldest trick in the book. Obviously most people already knew that one and wouldn't fall for it.

"We could always tell them the truth," Sam muttered after a few seconds of silence.

He and his brother looked at each other for a short moment.

"Nah."

"I wonder how dad's doing," Sam said thoughtfully.

"I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up," Dean admitted.

"I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up."

Harry smiled softly. They might be fucked up, the Winchesters, but they cared deeply for each other. Harry realized how much he wanted a family like that for himself, but instead he was stuck with the Dursleys as relatives and a manipulative old coot for a headmaster. The closest he had gotten to real family were Sirius and Remus, and now he'd gotten one of them killed.

Harry jumped out of his musings when the radio started acting wonky and he watched curiously as Sam fiddled with the settings. All of a sudden, the wind picked up force and the streetlamps started flickering. Harry swallowed nervously and tightened his hold on his wand without pulling it out of its holster just yet. No reason to freak the Winchesters out even more than they already were. Harry could do with _not_ getting shot.

"It's coming," Sam said lowly.

Sam and Dean got out of the car, and so did Harry.

"Stay here, Harry," Sam said automatically when he saw the teen following them.

"No way! I can help!" the young wizard argued.

"It's too dangerous."

"Let him come, Sammy," Dean cut in.  
"We might need his help."

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but the serious expression on his brother's face told him it was useless. He sent one last glance towards Harry before he followed the older Winchester towards the house.

The three of them snuck into the house relatively easy, only to be surprised by the husband to charge at them with a baseball bat. He almost smashed Dean's face in, but the hunter was quick enough to evade the blow and grabbed the bat when the man tried for another swing.

"Get out of my house!" the man screamed.

Dean quickly pinned him against the wall with his own weapon and held him there.

"Be quite and listen to me! We're trying to help you," Dean said in the most calm voice he could muster.

"Charlie?" they heard his wife call from upstairs.

"Monica get the baby!" the man yelled.

"Don't go into the nursery!"

More screaming commenced as Sam ran up the stairs to stop the woman from going for the baby. Figuring now was as good time as any to interfere, Harry cast a silent Stupify on the man and he sagged unconscious in Dean's arms. Really, at times like these, Harry was glad the American Wizarding Society was a lot less strict on their laws for underage use of magic.

"Go help Sam, I'll take him out of the house," Harry told Dean.

The man scowled at him for a moment before nodding and dashing off. With a sigh, Harry cast a Mobilicorpus on the unconscious man and levitated him out of the house. Once they were at a safe distance on the front lawn, Harry carefully lowered the man.

"Enervate."

Charlie Holt jumped to his feet almost immediately, tensing up when he saw Harry stand in front of him and between him and his house. His fists balled and he took a step to the side, as if planning to go around the teen, but Harry just moved with him.

"Mr. Holt, we are only trying to save your family from a painful death," Harry spoke calmly.

"Get out of my way!" the man shouted frantically.

Just in that moment, a large explosion of fire crashed through the upstairs window, filling the entire house with fire. Mr. Holt screamed in horror and made a dash past Harry to get to his wife and daughter. Harry, too rushed back towards the burning house in fear that both Winchesters might stay in it. To his great relief, they, along with Monica and Rosie came crashing through the front door that same moment.

"Get away from my family!" Charlie shouted as he ran over to them.

"Charlie, don't! they saved us!" Monica called before she took her baby over from Dean.

She walked over to her husband after that and allowed the man to hold her and their child close while once again thanking Sam and Dean. Harry smiled at the display and walked over to the two hunters, relieved that at least they were able to make a difference. Just then, an apparition in the window of the burning nursery made him pause and look up. His eyes widened at the silhouette of a man standing there, staring down at them.

"It's still in there!" Sam roared in anger as he tried to rush back into the burning house.

Dean had to restrain him to stop him from going back in.

"Going in there is suicide!" the older brother shouted.

"I don't care!"

"I do!"

. . . . .

"C'mon dad! Answer your phone dammit!" Dean growled as he – again – tried to call John.

Harry was sitting on one of the only chairs in the room, staring wide eyed at the two brothers. Dean was pacing worriedly as he tried again and again to call their father, while Sam was sitting on the bed with a deep, scary scowl on his face. Apparently he was really pissed off that the demon they'd been hunting all their lives escaped again.

"You should have let me go back in there," Sam muttered bitterly.  
"I could have ended all this."

"The only thing you would end was your life," Dean replied.

"You don't know that," Sam said frowning.

"So, what? You're willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?" Dean asked frustrated.

"Yeah. You're damn right I am," the younger one growled back, standing up from the bed.

"That enough!" Harry shouted annoyed.

Both brothers stared at the teen in shock.

"No one is sacrificing anyone, least of all themselves. The bloody thing will most likely show up again at some point and _then_ you can kill it and get the whole damn revenge spiel out of the bloody way!"

"Stay out of it Harry," Sam growled.  
"This has nothing to do with you."

"Damn right it doesn't, but I know what that mindset'll do to you," the teen deadpanned.  
"My parents were killed when I was 15 months old, in their own home when their killer tried to get to me. I've had a really shitty childhood because my relatives hated me for something out of my control and my godfather was locked away an innocent man for my parents' murder. I think if anyone knows about bitterness and revenge, it's me."

"It's not the same-" Sam started.

"No? because it's a demon in this case, or because it's happening to you?" Harry asked sarcastically.  
"The man that killed my parents has been _hunting me_ for five years now. He's killed a friend of mine only last year and people blamed me for it for the longest time. A few days before I came to the US, he killed my godfather. But did I hang around plotting revenge? I came here to have some taste of a normal, happy life for once in my bloody life, so don't say it's any different! I LOST MORE THAN YOU AND DO YOU SEE ME WALLOWING?!"

The Winchesters stared at him with wide eyes in shock, unable to give any response to that. Harry sighed aggravated and ran his hands through his hair.

"I'll take revenge eventually, but not because he killed them," he muttered eventually.  
"Not because everyone expects me to do it and there is no one else out there who even bothers to try. I'll kill him because he'll keep killing and hurting people if I don't stop him. He'll never leave me alone either. All I want is be happy. That's why I'll kill him."

"Kid, one of these days, we'll have a real talk about all that," Dean told him.  
"But not now, because we've got more important matters and dad's still not answering."

"He should have called by now," Sam muttered, as worry finally marred his expression.  
"Try again."

Dean nodded and dialed their father's number.

 _"_ _You boys really screwed up this time."_

Dean looked up in shock and glanced over to Sam and Harry, who were now both staring back in curiosity and worry.

"Where is he?" he asked shakily.

 _"_ _You're never gonna see your father again,"_ Meg told him.


	7. Devil's Trap

**Thank you everyone for your kind reviews! I love you all so much and I love that you love the story. So, as thanks, (and because the chapter was ready anyway) here is another chapter! Enjoy :)**

* * *

"They've got dad," Dean whispered shakily.

"Meg?" Sam asked softly.  
"What did she say?"

"I just told you Sammy," the older brother said as he started packing.  
"We need to go. Now," he said hurried.

"What? Why?"

"Because the demon knows we're in Salvation. It knows we have the Colt and it got dad. It'll come after us next."

"Good," Sam said stubbornly.  
"Let them come. We still have three bullets left."

"Listen, we're not ready tough guy!" Dean growled.  
"We don't know how many there are out there! We're no good to anybody dead!"

"Dean's right," Harry pointed out.  
"Family is more important than wasting a demon."

Sam sighed and nodded in agreement. Really, the more he learned about Harry, the more of a mystery the teen became but he still couldn't help but feel bad for the boy. If half the things he said were true, he had a tougher life than he and Dean had, and while he was about ten years younger than them too.

. . . . .

After a long drive of several hours, they arrived in Sioux Falls. Harry watched curiously through the window, staring at the large sign proclaiming _'Singer Salvage'_. He wondered what they were doing in a car salvage yard. Then again, he supposed even Hunters needed actual jobs to pay for everything.

The man, Bobby Singer, and older man with greying brown hair and beard who was dressed like a trucker, handed them all a flask of holy water while eyeing Harry suspiciously. The teen guessed that it had to be something with the whole hunter business that made these people paranoid and immediately snorted at the thought. Not being paranoid in this line of work was suicide after all.

"This is some serious crap you boys walked into," Bobby told them.

"Yeah? How's that?" Sam asked.

"Normal year, you hear about three demonic possessions, maybe four tops," the older hunter started.  
"This year I heard of 27 so far. You hear what I'm saying? More and more demons are walking among us. A lot more."

"Do you know why?" Sam asked.

"No. But there's a storm comin' and you boys and your daddy, you're smack in the middle of it."

The large dog Harry had seen in the yard suddenly started barking aggressively, making them all jump up and rush over to the window to see what was going on. A soft whine was heard before the dog fell silent again. Bobby pulled the curtains away and peered out, finding the dog missing.

"Something's wrong," he said.

At the same moment, the door got kicked open violently and a girl with short blond hair and a red leather jacket walked in. Harry swallowed nervously and looked over to the brothers. He guessed this was the demon Meg they'd been talking about.

"No more crap, okay," she hissed, glaring at them.

Dean strode towards her while unscrewing the flask of holy water, but before he could use it, Meg slapped him hard enough to have him flying through the room and slamming in a large pile of books. Harry's Holly wand immediately slid in his hand from the holster and he aimed it at the demon.

"Stupi-"

He couldn't even finish the incantation before an invisible force slammed Harry backwards and pinned him against the wall. Meg cocked her head curiously and smirked.

"Well, isn't this a lovely surprise?" she mocked.  
"Little Harry Potter, Hero of the Light. I heard rumors about your disappearance."

She walked closer to the two remaining hunters still standing. Sam pulled Bobby behind him and started backing up. Meg sneered and approached again while throwing threats and taunts their way, until suddenly, she couldn't move forward again. Her eyes widened in shock and looked up, finding a Devil's Trap drawn on the ceiling above her.

Dean and Harry, who was now once again free from the demon's telepathic powers, walked back into the room and went to stand next to Sam and Bobby. All of them grinning smugly.

"Gotcha," Dean said.

. . . . .

"I salted the doors and windows," Bobby said when he walked back into the room.  
"If there are any more demons out there, they aint getting in."

Dean nodded and stood up from where he, Sam and Harry had been sitting.

"Where's our father, Meg?" he asked.

"You didn't ask very nice," the demon mocked sarcastically.

"Where's our father, bitch," the oldest brother corrected himself.

"Jeez! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh. I forgot. You don't."

"Do you think this is a freaking game?! Where is he?! What have you done to him?!"

"He died screaming. I killed him myself."

Harry winced as Dean slapped her across the face with all his strength, knowing the demon had just really pissed the man off. If it had been a human, Harry would have felt bad for her. He still did just a little, at least until he reminded himself what this creature had already done in the past.

"That's kind of a turn-on. You hitting a girl," Meg mocked.

"You're no girl."

"Dean," Bobby said, standing up and walking out of the room.

Harry and the two Winchesters followed him.

"You okay?" Sam asked his brother.

"She's lying. Dad isn't dead," Dean muttered in reply.

"Dean, you gotta be careful," Bobby told him.  
"Don't hurt her."

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"She's possessed," Bobby told them.  
"That's a human possessed by a demon. Can't you tell?"

"Are you trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped in there somewhere?" Dean asked incredulously.

"I can help," Harry spoke up for the first time since this whole thing started.

"How?" Dean asked.

Harry swallowed and looked between the three hunters now all staring at him curiously.

"I'm not really sure if it'll work," he admitted.  
"It's not like I'm trained in it or anything, and the only time I actually did this, it was by accident, but if there really is a human in there, and she actually has a human mind with memories and everything, I should be able to at least give it a try."

"Try what?" Sam asked confused.

"Legilimency," Harry replied.  
"Read her mind."

Bobby and Sam looked shocked at the young teen, while Dean just nodded.

"Do it," he ordered.

Harry nodded at him and turned back towards the demon. Taking a deep breath, he took out his wand and aimed it at the girl. Meg raised a brow, a small sliver of fear appearing in her eyes before she quickly masked it with a cocky smirk.

"What are you going to do, little wizard?" she asked mockingly.

"Legilimence!" Harry muttered.

Nothing happened and Meg chuckled a bit in amusement. Harry frowned and tried again.

"Legilimence!"

"Nice try, kid."

"Legilimence!" Harry called for the third time.

This time, he almost had it. Flashes of a girl, Meg, walking towards the university campus, smiling before black smoke overtook her. With a painful smash inside Harry's head, he was thrown out again. He groaned in pain, grabbing the side of his head. Sam was by his side almost immediately, steadying him as he staggered backwards.

"Look at you," Meg taunted.  
"The Boy-Who-Lived, trying to play with the big boys. You think you can save anyone? You couldn't even save your own godfather."

Harry gritted his teeth and stood back up, swaying a little as he tried to steady himself. Ignoring the looks he received from the hunters at Meg's taunts. This was not the moment for explanations, and they knew that too. Getting John back was more important in the end.

"Legilimence!" Harry called for a last time.

A rush overcame him as he finally entered the demon's mind. At first, all he saw was flashes, but that turned into whole scenes soon enough. He grinned as he saw the location of where the demons were holding the oldest Winchester. Just in time too, as shortly after, he was violently shoved back out of the demon's mind. Harry flew backwards a few feet even in real life, and both Sam and Dean had to catch him to stop him from falling on his ass.

"You alright, kid?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, smiling weakly.  
"I did it. I found out where they're keeping him."

. . . . .

Harry couldn't get the image of the girl, the real Meg, dying out of his head. They'd exorcised the demon, but the girl's body was too broken and beat up to keep her alive without the being's help. She'd thanked them for saving her, told them she'd been possessed for a whole year. He felt incredibly bad for what had been done to her, but at least she was at peace now.

With a sigh, he refocused on the task at hand. They were watching the Sunrise Apartments where Harry had learned the Winchester's father was being kept. He knew there were several other demons guarding John, but even Meg hadn't known exactly how many, or at least Harry hadn't seen it in her mind, and with the location being an apartment building, they could be possessing anyone.

"They probably know exactly what we look like," Sam sighed.  
"And they can look like anybody."

"This sucks," Dean muttered.

"Tell me about it. So how do we get in?"

"We pull the fire alarm, get all the civilians out."

"But then the city responds in what? Seven minutes?"

"Seven minutes exactly," Dean agreed.

"I can do that," Harry volunteered quickly.  
"Meg wasn't expecting me to be with you guys, so I bet they don't know me either."

Dean nodded in agreement. Harry grinned a bit and took his bag from his shoulders, pulling something out before handing it to Sam.

"What's this?" the tall hunter asked as he looked at the old looking cloak.

"An Invisibility Cloak," Harry replied with a shrug.  
"You put it on and no one can see you anymore. Figured we might need it for this."

"Can't wait for that talk we'll be having after this is all over," Dean grunted.

Harry chuckled a bit and walked out onto the street. He walked into the building with a casual stroll, knowing that if he just acted like he belonged there, no one would look twice. It helped that he actually had properly fitting clothes since coming to the US. Dudley's old clothes always landed him with unwanted attention.

He got to the fire alarm in the entrance hall without any trouble, only having to dive out of the way from one man walking out before he could pull it. When the alarm started going off Harry waited a little for other people to start rushing out of the building before he joined them.

The firefighters were already at the scene when Harry walked back out of the apartment. Looking around, he found Dean frantically talking to one of the firemen to distract him from Sam sneaking around underneath Harry's cloak. When he spotted Harry, he gave a shout of relief and rushed over.

"There you are, Tommy!" he said.  
"Your mom was terrified when the alarm went and she couldn't find you!"

Harry gave a small grin and looked up to the fussing hunter. It was a really funny thing to see Dean act like that while knowing how he usually was. And maybe a little creepy.

"Sorry," he muttered, making sure to be quiet enough not to let his accent get through.

They quickly pulled back towards the bushes on the other side of the street where they were out of sight from the masses and waited. Shortly after their arrival, Sam came back as well. He pulled the cloak off and handed it back to Harry with a nod in thanks and handed a fireman's uniform to Dean.

"Let's go in," Dean said as he put it on.

"I'm right behind you," Harry agreed as he pulled the cloak over himself.

The two brothers donned the firemen uniforms while Harry followed after them under his cloak. They rushed back into the building with the EMF, looking for spikes to tell them where the demon's might be keeping John.

"Always wanted to become a fireman when I grew up," Dean commented lightly.

"You never told me that!" Sam replied shocked.

Harry chuckled a bit, but fell quiet almost immediately when the EMF spiked and started making more noise. Taking a deep breath, Harry took his wand out of its holster and waited as Dean knocked on the door. And called out that the people inside should evacuate. The door opened, and Sam and Dean stormed in. A small fight commenced before the two hunters were able to overtake the demons and stuff them in the closet. Harry walked in once they were secured behind a salt line and took off the cloak.

He went ahead of the brothers into the bedroom, wand raised in case some other demon was still there. There wasn't. John Winchester was lying on the bed, unconscious, and tied to the four sides of the bed. Dean and Sam walked in right behind him.

"Dad!" Dean called as he saw the man.

He rushed to the bedside and leaned over, his ear next to the older hunter's mouth.

"He's still breathing," he told Sam and Harry relieved.

Dean grabbed his pocket knife and grabbed one tied wrist while Harry aimed his wand at the older man's tied ankle.

"Wai!" Sam called.  
"He could be possessed for all we know."

The tallest male took out a flask of holy water and walked over to the bed. He poured some over John and Harry and the two brothers held their breaths waiting. John slowly rose and looked at his son's drowsily.

"Sam?" he asked sleepily confused.  
"Did you just splash me with water?"

"Dad, you okay?" Dean asked.

John gave a muttered reply while Harry quickly muttered a 'Diffindo' to cut the bonds and helped him sit up. Dean nodded in thanks, and glanced over to his dad to make sure he hadn't seen anything. Sam helped his brother with keeping their dad upright. They walked him out of the bedroom, Harry walking in front of them with his wand drawn and thanking God that America seemed too lax to look into magic use in the muggle world.

The door to the apartment was kicked in and two possessed men walked in. Harry took on a defensive stance when he saw them approach and pointed his wand at them.

"Confringo!" he yelled before looking back at the Winchesters.  
"Back up! I'll hold them off!" he ordered them.

Dean nodded and started leading his father and brother back into the bedroom and towards the window. Harry waited for the large explosion to be gone to see if the demons were still in one piece. One of them came charging at him and Harry barely had the time to blast him back with an 'Expeliarmus' before he backed up into the other room.

"Colloportus!" he shouted to the door and it slammed closed and locked itself.

Sam was there right behind him and he put a salt line in front of the door.

"Dean and dad are down the fire escape," Sam told Harry.

The teen nodded and ran over to the window and slid through, Sam following right behind him.

"That door gonna hold?" Sam asked.

"Spell can't be undone without a counter spell."

Sam frowned, obviously wanting to ask questions, but he restrained himself and nodded. Harry smiled grateful and helped Sam salt the window before they climbed down the stairs. They barely touched the street or Sam was tackled by a man with great force.

"Expeliarmus!" Harry cried out, throwing the man off Sam while Dean ran over to help.

The demon looked up and grabbed Dean, throwing him through the street and into a car. Harry winced and held up his wand again, only for the demon to use his telekinesis to throw Harry backwards. The young wizard slammed against a wall and was knocked unconscious by the blow.

The demon went back to Sam and started hitting him as hard as he could, more than likely breaking not only his nose, but his cheekbone and other places as well. A shot rang through the air and electric shocks went through the demon as a bullet buried itself in the side of his head.

"Sam!" Dean called out as he lowered the Colt and ran over to his brother.

The two of them looked at the human corpse that once housed the demon attacking them. Dean swallowed and looked over to his younger brother.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

Dean moved to help their dad up while Sam went to Harry's side. The teen groaned in pain and blinked furiously. His hand slowly rose to his bleeding scalp and sighed heavily.

"And here I thought coming to the US meant I _wouldn't_ get in life threatening situations," he muttered.


	8. Do or Die

**Yet another chapter! Yay! We are getting really close to the end of season one, and once we've rounded that, updates will become much slower, so apologies in advance.**

* * *

Harry was outside the hidden little cottage in the middle of the woods setting up wards while Sam and Dean were demon proofing the inside and John was lying down, resting for a little while. Harry was pretty sure he was using several wards twice or even three times and was adding a few that weren't necessary in this situation, but he was dreading going back in, knowing that the second he'd cross that threshold, he'd be forced to give the three hunters inside an explanation.

Harry looked up when the wind picked up and the lights started to flicker. A cold chill ran down his spine, his eyes widening as he realized what it meant. His former worries forgotten, he turned on his heels and rushed back towards the house. He threw open the door, practically slamming it in Sam's face.

"Harry!" Sam exclaimed.  
"The demon is coming."

Harry frowned. And looked around.

"Where are Dean and John?" he asked.

"Still in there," Sam replied, jerking a thumb to the door at the other side of the hall.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the closed door and then back at Sam, who was now staring curiously at him.

"We better go back to them," Harry said.  
"No demons can get in if they aren't already here."

Sam's eyes widened and he ran back to the room, Harry immediately following after him. They burst into the room to find Dean aiming the Colt at John. Sam halted immediately, staring at the two in shock.

"Dean? What's going on?" he asked.

"That isn't dad," the older brother gritted out.

"Don't listen to him, Sam. He's lost his mind," John said.

Harry gripped his wand tightly and eyed the two of them nervously. The demon was coming, or more likely, he was already here. He was pretty sure he'd done the warding properly, so they should be unfindable right about now, but that was useless if the demon had been with them all along.

"No way the demon is out there anymore," Harry said, sounding more confident than he felt.  
"I warded the whole area. They can't possibly find us like this, which means John _is_ the demon."

"You can't be sure of that," John argued.  
"You're just a kid. Your warding is shaky at best."

Harry smiled humorlessly and nodded his head in agreement. It was the first time he ever had to use wards. All his knowledge about them until now was purely theoretical, so there was a big chance they wouldn't hold against greater forces, like that demon they were hunting.

"John doesn't know that though," he said.

John raised a brow and chuckled. His eyes flashed yellow and suddenly, all three of them found themselves slammed against the walls by an invisible force. Dean had let go of the Colt in his surprise and the demon picked it up, still smirking.

"What a pain in the ass this thing's been," it muttered as it looked down on the gun.

"It's you, isn't it?" Sam ground out, glaring at the demon possessing his father.  
"We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, you found me," the demon said, before he looked over to Harry.  
"But I honestly didn't expect to find _you_ here with the Winchester boys."

Harry swallowed and stared right back in those unearthly yellow eyes, keeping his gaze steady under the scrutiny. This held nothing to being tied up on a gravestone with Voldemort threatening to kill him. At least, that was what he told himself. Still, the demon's comment created a lot of questions for the young wizard.

"How do you know me?" he asked.

"We've been waiting for Riddle's soul to take the dive for decades," the demon shrugged.  
"He should have died 15 years ago, but you know that don't you? You're lucky you're more useful to us alive, gives you a chance to walk away from this once I'm done with the Winchesters."

"I'll hunt you down and kill you!" Harry growled furiously.  
"If you say you know me, then you know I'm dead serious!"

"Oh, he's very dead, isn't he?" the demon taunted.  
"Had most of his family on my racks. Too bad he got away. The Veil makes the souls disappear. Poor Sirius is nowhere now."

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared.

A large blast of magic escaped from Harry and pushed the demon backwards. For a moment, Harry was free, but the energy it had cost to do that had exhausted him too much and he immediately crumbled up on the floor. The demon laughed and stood back up, slamming Harry against the wall again. After that, he focused on the two Winchester boys.

"I could have killed you all a hundred times today. But this is so much better," it spoke.  
"You're dad? He's still in here. Screaming. Trapped in his own meatsuit. He says hi by the way."

"Let him go," Dean growled out.  
"Let him go, or I swear to God…"

"What?" the demon asked amused.  
"What are you and God gonna do?"

The demon walked over to Dean, stopping right in front of him.

"The way I see it, this is justice," it said.  
"You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The one in the alley, that was my boy."

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Dean muttered.

"What? You're the only one that can have a family?" the demon asked.  
"You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?... oh, that's right. I forgot. I did. Still; two wrongs don't make a right."

"I wanna know why!" Sam demanded from where he was straining against his invisible bonds at the opposite wall of where Dean was.

"Why I killed mommy and pretty little Jess?" the demon asked tauntingly before he looked back at Dean.  
"You know, he never told you this, but he was gonna ask to marry her. Has been ring shopping and everything."

He walked away from the oldest Winchester brother to stop right in front of Sam.

"Because they were in the way," the demon said.  
"For my plans for you and all the others like you."

At that point, Harry started fading out of consciousness. He missed most of the conversation following, only starting to wake again when the demon started torturing Dean. He heard the screams and the begging, but it wasn't Dean he heard. Instead, he saw Sirius in his mind's eye. His godfather being tortured in his dream Voldemort had created. He twitched in his bonds, and then they were suddenly gone.

He dropped heavily, blinking against the pounding headache and the fuzziness in his brain. He looked up to find Sam holding the gun and aiming it at John. A shot was fired, going through John's leg and Harry winched at the loud sound piercing through the headache and making it worse.

Harry bit through it and ignored both Sam and the possessed hunter to crawl over to the wounded Dean. The older brother was wheezing in pain, blood drippling down his chest and out of his mouth. Harry tried to remember any healing spells.

"Vulnera Sanentur," he muttered, waving his wand over Dean's chest.  
"Episkey, Tergio, Ferula."

With the last spell cast, bandages wrapped themselves around Dean's chest. The hunter looked up at Harry, nodding his gratitude as he propped himself up against the wall. After that, they both focused back on Sam and John.

"You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son," John demanded desperately.

Sam cocked the Colt and aimed at his own father. Harry's eyes widened in shock and he grabbed Dean's hand. Dean looked on with the same amount of fear as harry felt.

"Do it!" John yelled.

"Sam, don't you do it!" Dean yelled at the same time.

"Shoot me! Shoot me!"

Harry's breath stocked in his throat as he stared on at the scene. John kept demanding again and again that Sam kill the demon inside him, but Harry couldn't believe the youngest hunter would be capable of doing it. He certainly hoped he wouldn't at least. Someone who would be capable to kill their own father in cold blood, no matter the reason, he couldn't possibly understand that. He could see that Dean agreed with him.

Dual breaths of relief were let out when Sam lowered the weapon, but were immediately sucked back in as John started screaming. Black smoke started billowing from the oldest hunter's mouth and disappeared through the cracks in the floor.

. . . . .

"We need to get Dean to the hospital," Sam started frantically.

"No. What we need is a fucking explanation," John argued.

Harry tensed at the glare he received. He glanced over to Dean for a moment, worried about the well-being of the man. He'd done everything he could to help him, but he was in no way a medi-wizard. He was barely even average on healing magic for an OWL level wizard.

"Dean's bandages should hold long enough," he muttered eventually.  
"You guys deserve to know, so I'll answer any questions you guys have."

Sam and Dean shared a look while their father continued glaring at the teen.

"How did the demon know you?" John asked immediately.

"Apparently, the man that killed my parents is on the wanted list in Hell," Harry replied dryly.  
"If you're asking if I have dealt with demons before, or if I knew that particular one. Than the answer is no. I didn't even know they were real until I started traveling with Sam and Dean."

"You said you had natural magic," Dean muttered, earning questioning looks from his father and brother.

"I do," Harry nodded.  
"Our people call ourselves wizards and witches – not the type of witches you guys deal with – but really, we're just as much human as you guys. The only different is that we wear funny robes and hats and wave a wand around."

"How come we never heard of 'natural magic' users before?" John asked skeptically.

"Because we have our own laws and societies. The most important one is the Statute of Secrecy. We are forbidden from showing our existence to muggles, non-magic people. We break the Statute, we get arrested."

"How come you can tell us now?" Sam asked, suddenly worried.  
"Won't you get in trouble for breaking the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Two reasons why I'm not in trouble yet," Harry muttered smugly, holding up two fingers.  
"One: I'm here illegally. No one knows I'm in the US except for you, the Wilsons and Remus, my honorary godfather who arranged me coming here in the first place. I never had my wand registered at the American Ministry, and without registration, they can't trace any use of magic back to me. Only thing they know is that _someone_ is using magic in the area, but we're always gone soon enough for me not to get caught."

"And what's reason two?" Dean asked.

"I'm not just any wizard."

The three hunters were surprised at that. Not only at the boy's words, but also in the bitter, hateful tone it had been spoken. Harry smiled apologetically at them and sighed.

"It's a long story," he admitted.  
"I guess I should start saying that the man that's after me is known in my world as the Darkest Wizard at all times. His name is Voldemort, but most people are terrified of even speaking his name. Before I was born, he was at war with the wizarding world. It were dark times, and things looked like they would end up in Voldemort's favor, until, around my birth, a Prophesy was made. It spoke of someone who would have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord: me."

Harry paused for a moment and chuckled bitterly.

"I only found out about the bloody Prophesy a month and a half ago. Apparently, no one found it necessary to tell me why Voldemort was after me in the first place," he muttered.  
"He killed my parents when I was 15 months old and tried to kill me, but somehow, the curse rebounded, something that should have been impossible, but my mum found a way to protect me by sacrificing her own life. It did make me famous though. The whole wizarding world knows me as the Boy-Who-Lived. They expect me to fight Voldemort and defeat him."

"Well, I guess they thought I already did when he killed my parents. He'd been gone since then, but he showed up again last year. He killed a friend of mine. Cedric didn't deserve to die like that. He wasn't even meant to be there at all, they were only trying to get to me. They needed my blood to resurrect Voldemort and I dueled him after. He would have killed me, but I was able to escape."

"For about a whole year, no one believed me when I said he was back. Just my closest friends and the headmaster of my school. The ministry told the public I was some kind of attention whore and even my classmates believed it. They wanted nothing to do with me anymore. And what was even worse, we weren't allowed to learn how to defend ourselves because the Minister of Magic was afraid we were going to storm the ministry or something."

"They were scared of a bunch of kids?" Dean asked shocked.

"More of professor Dumbledore," Harry replied shrugging.  
"He might have been headmaster in our school, but he also had a lot of political power. He defeated the last Dark Lord before Voldemort rose, and he has been offered the position of minister in the past. He's always refused though. Besides, with mine and Dumbledore's popularity, we could pretty much start a revolution if we wanted."

"Anyway. Things got messy last year. Ever since Voldemort was resurrected, I had weird dreams. I could see the things Voldemort was doing, or was going to do. My scar started hurting when he was angry, and some of his thoughts and emotions started bleeding through the connection."

"That's what you meant with that you used to have visions like mine," Sam breathed awed.  
"And how you think it's some sort of blood bond between me and the demon, right? Because that's the case with you and Voldemort?"

Harry nodded frowning. Dean raised a brow in question and looked between Harry and his brother curiously.

"Something I missed?" he asked.

"Harry mentioned something about a blood bond when you and dad were arguing," Sam told him.  
"But that's not important right now. Keep going, Harry. How did you get rid of the connection?"

"I didn't," Harry confessed.  
"One of my teachers tried to teach me Occlumency, the opposite of Legilimency basically, it blocks the mind of from outsiders. I was terrible at it and eventually Voldemort figured out about the connection and used it against me."

He paused again, this time to wipe a tear away from his eyes. Sam watched him with sad eyes and sat down next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulder in comfort. Harry smiled up at him and leaned in to the embrace, grateful the youngest Winchester didn't hate him for being what he was.

"One night I dreamed that my godfather, Sirius Black was being tortured by Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries," he mumbled.  
"I got a few friends together, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna, and we went to the ministry to save him. Only, it wasn't real. Voldemort had created the vision so that I would go there and a group of Death Eaters, followers of the Dark Lord, were waiting for us. We battled, and Sirius and some other people had to come save us. He-he was killed by his own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Sobbing, Harry buried his face in Sam's shoulder, making John tense and grab for a weapon. Sam shot his father a warning look and pulled Harry a bit closer to him while Dean shuffled over and put a hand on the teenager's back. The action made Harry tense up for a small second, but he relaxed soon enough and when he had calmed down enough, he sat back up.

"I chased after Bellatrix after that. I wanted her dead so badly, I actually used one of the Three Unforgivable Curses," he continued.  
"I used the Cruciatus, the torture curse. The other two are the Imperius, mind control, and the Killing Curse. There doesn't exist a counter curse, or even a charm that can protect against any of those. You get hit, there's nothing you can do- or, well, you _can_ throw off the Imperius, if you're stubborn enough and apparently, I can survive the Killing Curse…"

"What happened after?" Sam asked softly, nudging Harry back towards the story.

"Right, sorry. Voldemort showed up. He and I dueled, until Dumbledore got in between, and Voldemort tried to possess me. I shook the possession off after a little while and when the Aurors – wizarding version of the police – showed up, Voldemort took off," Harry continued the story.  
"The good news was that no one could ignore the fact that Voldemort was back anymore. Bad news, I lost the only family I had left. The next day I overheard Dumbledore saying that he wanted to send me back to the Dursleys. They're my mum's sister and her husband. Muggles and they hate anything magic, including me. Dumbledore knows this, I told him almost every year. I begged him not to send me back, but he didn't listen and even told anyone who asked I was _happy_ , that they _loved_ me."

"Why would he do that?" Dean asked confused.

"Because whatever my mum did to protect me, it's ancient blood magic and it only works as long as I'm with a loving relative. Aunt Petunia is the only living family I have left, so…" Harry muttered shrugging.  
"I told Remus, a close friend of my dad and Sirius, everything and that I wanted out, at least for a little while. He agreed and called up his muggle cousin here in the States, and I think you all know the rest."

When Harry was done talking, the whole room fell silent for a few short moments as the three hunters processed everything. Sam seemed to come to a decision first and he pulled Harry into a hug.

"I'm so sorry that you had to go through all that," he muttered.

"Get off him," John spoke lowly, his tone dark and threatening.

Slowly, Harry pulled away from Sam to find the older hunter aiming a gun at him. Harry swallowed fearfully. He was still completely exhausted from fighting off the demon and healing Dean that he could already tell there was no way he'd be able to properly protect himself from John. Not that there was much magic protection that would help him against a bullet anyway.

"Dad! He never did anything wrong," Sam pointed out frowning.  
"Harry has done nothing but help us since we met him. He's the one saving Dean from the damn Shtriga you send us after!"

"And the one saving Sammy and Sarah from the little girl in the painting," Dean added nodding.  
"And he protected all of us from the vampires when we were fighting Luther. Kid probably saved our asses more times than we even know since we met him."

"And we wouldn't have found you now if it wasn't for him," Sam finished, glaring at his dad.

"He's not human!" John shouted.  
"He's a thing we hunt! We can't keep him alive just because hasn't attacked us _yet_!"

"Didn't you hear him? He _is_ human!" Sam shouted back.

"If his people were as dangerous as you think, we'd have known about them," Dean spoke.  
"That's what we do, right dad? We look for strange deaths and kill monsters. If those wizards were bad, they'd have killed enough other people to end up on our radar."

John looked at his two sons, who were both protectively flanking the petite boy in their middle and he sighed. It was pretty obvious they wouldn't let him kill the teen, so he put the gun away.

"One wrong move, and you're gone, kid," he threatened.

"I didn't expect anything less," Harry shot back.

. . . . .

They drove on the dark, empty road in complete silence. John, who was sitting in the passenger seat next to Sam was glaring out of the window, every now and then glancing through the mirror at Harry as if he was expecting the young wizard to turn against them and try to kill them. Harry sat in the back next to Dean, who was dozing off from exhaustion and his injuries.

"Look," Sam started.  
"We still got the Colt. We still got the one bullet left. We could start over! Maybe we could-"

A large truck suddenly slammed into the car's side, throwing them off the road. Harry was violently thrown around in his seat. Glass from the broken window next to him was flying around the car and cutting him as he smacked his head against something hard. He could feel blood leaking down his face and neck, but he ignored his pain for the moment and glanced over to Dean, his hand reaching out to the unconscious man shakily before blackness took him too.


	9. In My Time of Dying

Harry woke up with a start, his eyes unseeing as white light attacked them. For a little moment he actually believed he was dead, but then the pain bombarded him. Air rushed in his lungs with a sudden hit and he coughed. Machines at his sides, that had been beeping steadily picked up their pace along with his breathing and his heart. Seconds later, several nurses flooded into the room.

"What happened?" he asked, voice so scratchy and hoarse it made him wince.

"Just stay calm, boy," one of the nurses told him gently.  
"Lay back down and try get some more rest. You were severely injured."

"I don't bloody care!" Harry hissed, ignoring the insisting hands pushing him in the pillows as he sat up.  
"What happened to the others? Are they alright? Dean?! He was next to me in the car! Where's Dean?"

"Harry? You alright?" Sam asked from the doorway.

The teen stilled his struggling and stared wide eyed at the young man. Relief flooded him as he noticed that Sam was relatively unscathed bar from a large bruise on his face and a few cuts. He smiled at Sam and sat up completely, swinging his feet over the side of the bed, much to the distaste of the nurses fussing over him.

"I'm fine, alright!" Harry growled at the one closest to him.  
"I feel fine, see? All rested up and ready to go."

To everyone's shock, he was right too. He had been pretty banged up when they found him. A concussion, broken bones and his entire face cut up. Most of the smaller cuts had healed by now, and so had the concussion. His bones were still mostly broken of course, that didn't go away, but he was already weeks into the healing process somehow. The boy was a medical miracle.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Sam asked worried.

"Wizards have a tougher hide than muggles," Harry replied flippantly.  
"So how are Dean and John? Are they alright?"

"Dad just got out of surgery, but he should be waking up any moment," Sam replied.  
"And Dean- he's…. he's slipped into a coma…"

Harry stopped walking and stared at Sam with wide eyes. This couldn't be true. Not now that Harry had finally found people who accepted him just for him, he couldn't lose them already. This felt like the whole case with Sirius all over again.

Harry followed Sam into Dean's room, his eyes saddening at the sight of the blond man lying unresponsive on the hospital bed hooked up to several different machines. He looked terrible like that. Weak and helpless that it didn't fit the Hunter at all.

"Is there anything you can do?" Sam asked softly.  
"Some magic maybe, like back at the cottage?"

"I'm just a kid," Harry muttered apologetically, shaking his head.  
"Everything I could do, I did back there. I'm sorry, Sam."

A soft murmur reached Harry's ear, and he felt a comforting warmth spread through him, as if Dean didn't blame him. as if he understood Harry was just as helpless as anyone else in this situation.

"Your father is awake," the doctor said, walking into the room.  
"You can go see him if you like."

Harry felt relief, but he knew he wasn't the source of the feeling. He scowled and looked around himself again. There was something else there, he realized, but he somehow was sure whatever it was, wasn't malevolent. It was on their side and wanted to see John and Dean get better as much as Sam and Harry did.

"What about my brother?" Sam asked, clearly not feeling the same things Harry did about the room.

"He sustained some serious injuries, but it's the head trauma we're worried about," the doctor replied.

"What can we do?" Sam asked, sounding just as worried as Harry felt at the moment.

"We won't know his full condition until he wakes up. If he wakes up."

"If?" Sam choked out, eyes widening in fear.

Harry tensed and looked away. Something had moved in the corner of his eye, jerked at the doctor's words as if offended by them. As he tried to look straight at it, it was gone again. Still, Harry was left with a strong feeling that there was another presence in the room. A very familiar one.

The doctor had walked back out of the room after his talk with Sam, and the tall hunter moved towards the door as well. Harry darted forward and grabbed Sam's sleeve, stopping him just in time. The brunette turned his head and looked at Harry questioningly.

"I-I could write some people. Maybe they know something that can help," he offered softly.

Harry knew that if he contacted Remus, or anyone else, he'd likely get found out and they'd come get him. But that mattered little when Dean's life was on the line. In the short two months that Harry had been around the Winchester brothers, they had become like family to the teen and he'd do almost anything to help them. Even facing off against Voldemort if he had to.

"Alright," Sam agreed easily, hope alighting his soft brown eyes.

He walked out of the room after, Harry in tow. The teen paused at the door and looked to the side. Something, a small voice, told him the other presence was situated right where he was looking and he smiled comforting.

"Don't worry, Dean. We'll find a way to help you," he whispered.

. . . . .

Harry was sitting in the chair in John's room, writing a letter to Remus while Sam was out to meet Bobby as the older hunter had come all this way to tow the Impala. All the while, John was staring at him warily, making Harry restless.

"What are you doing?" the hunter asked after a long and uncomfortable silence.

"Writing a friend who might be able to help," Harry replied.

"Someone like you?" John asked, sounding extremely distrusting.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" Harry asked frowning.

"Yeah, it is. I don't trust you _or_ any other magic folk."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize we should just let Dean _die_ if you aren't comfortable with the method," Harry snarked.  
"Have I done _anything at all_ to warrant your distrust for me?"

"You use magic," John pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes and didn't deem John's comment worthy of a response. He opened the window and whistled. Within a few seconds, Hedwig arrived on the windowsill. Under John's scrutinizing gaze, Harry attached his letter to his owl's hind leg and sent her off.

"The hell was that?" John asked gruffly.

"My owl is getting my letter to England," Harry replied easily.

John chuckled, shaking his head in disbelieve. It irked Harry that the man didn't seem to think Hedwig was capable of that, but he didn't bother explaining that _magical_ owls were different than their non-magical counterparts. No reason to explain things to a man who'd just think that meant Hedwig was 'evil', after all.

Suddenly, Sam returned, stomping into the room with an angry scowl and a bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't look at either of them as he walked over to the window, just when Harry had moved away and glared outside.

Harry wanted to ask what was wrong, but a sudden presence had him pause. Dean was back, and he was worried over something. Harry took a deep, calming breath and narrowed his eyes to slits, watching Sam from underneath his lashes. It worked, he could discern Dean's figure next to his brother, looking frantic, almost shouting it seemed. Now that he could see the other, he also picked up words of his rant. His eyes widened. There was something in the hospital.

"Sam…" he muttered, wanting to tell the hunter about his brother, but he was interrupted before he could.

"You're quiet," John spoke.

Sam turned around to face his father, expression furious as he glared at the man on the hospital bed.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Sam asked angrily, throwing the bag of stuff on John's.

"What?" John asked calmly, clearly already knowing what his son was talking about.

"That stuff from Bobby! You don't use it to ward off a demon, it's to summon one!" Sam accused.  
"You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown!"

Harry could see Dean tense next to his brother at the implications. Harry swallowed and stepped away from father and son. He could already see an argument coming up between the two and he knew he didn't want to be part of it. From where he could see Dean, he noticed the spirit of the hunter didn't agree with him.

"I have a plan, Sam," John started explaining.

Sam exploded.

"That's exactly my point!" he roared.  
"Dean is dying and you have a plan! You care more about this demon than your own son!"

"Do not tell me how I feel!" John shouted right back.  
"I'm doing this for Dean!"

"How?" Sam wanted to know, face distorted in anger.  
"How is revenge gonna help him? You don't think about anyone but yourself! It's the same, selfish obsession!"

"Funny, I thought this was your obsession too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend! You begged me to be part of this hunt! Now if you killed this thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!"

"It was possessing you, dad! I would have killed you too!" Sam reminded his father loudly.

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now!" John yelled angrily.

"Go to hell."

"I said shut up!" Dean roared, for the first time making himself perfectly understandable to Harry, making the boy flinch.

Dean swiped his hand over the little bedside table as he yelled, making a glass actually fly off the thing and shatter on the floor, earning the attention of all three other occupants of the room. Harry saw Dean was just as shocked as they were and he looked over at Harry for a short moment before he started fading away.

Harry jumped up, panicked. Sam noticed and walked over to him, probably about to ask if he was alright, but sudden commotion outside the room had them both pause.

"Something is going on out there," John noted.

With a jerk of his head, John gave the silent command to his son to check it out, to which Sam just nodded and rushed out of the room. Harry was about to follow, but thought better of it. Whatever it was, he wouldn't be of much help anyway, not in the state he was currently in at least. No, better let Sm handle it. The tall hunter would probably tell him what it was later anyway.

. . . . .

"What do you mean you felt something?" John asked gruffly.

"I mean it felt like Dean. Like he's around or something," Sam replied.

"That's because he is," Harry told them softly.  
"I wanted to tell you before, but then he almost died…"

The two life hunters turned to stare at him and even Dean flickered back into existence next to Harry, raising one barely distinctive eyebrow. The teen wetted his lips nervously at the curiosity, hope and distrust he could see in their gazes.

"You can see him?" Talk to him?" Sam asked shocked.

Harry scowled a bit. Had he misheard, or did Sam sound a bit jealous there? He shook the thought off and shook his head sadly.

"Flashes and feelings," he whispered.  
"… Sometimes I hear him too, but just barely."

Sam nodded and frowned in thought.

"I have an idea," he spoke up, turning away from Harry and John.

"Sam? Where are you going?" his father asked.

"I need to pick something up," Sam said.  
"Just wait here. I'll be right back."

"Wait, Sam, I promise that I won't hunt this demon," his father spoke quietly.  
"Not until we know Dean is okay."

. . . . .

Harry followed Sam into Dean's room. He'd been kicked out of John's room when the older hunter decided he needed some more rest and had waited out in the hall for Sam's return. When he did, he'd quickly explained what he was planning and allowed Harry to tag along. It would be easier to do this anyway with Harry there as he could sense Dean's presence the best out of them.

"Hey," Sam greeted, looking down on his brother's unmoving form.

Harry still had a hard time looking at the man. It just wasn't right to see him lying there completely unresponsive like that.

"So, Harry is convinced you're still here, and I believe him," Sam continued.  
"If you are, don't make fun of me for this, I think I've got a way we can talk."

He pulled up a Ouija Board and Harry grinned. He could practically _feel_ Dean's skepticism. He didn't say a word as Sam sat down on the floor, Board in front of him as Harry sat against the wall, watching him closely.

"I feel like I'm at a sleepover party," he commented cheerfully, earning a glare from Sam.

"Dean, are you there?" Sam asked, deciding to just ignore Harry further.

His hand was resting on the wooden piece in the middle of the Board, waiting for a response. To everyone's surprise, the piece started moving towards the 'Yes' on the upper left side. Harry sat up straighter, eyes wide as Sam breathed out in relief and smiled.

"It's good to hear from you man!" he said.  
"It just hasn't been the same without you."

Harry repressed the urge to snort. That was an understatement. The piece started moving again.

-H-U-N-T

"Hunt? Are you hunting?" Sam asked curiously.

-Yes-

"Is it in the hospital? Do you know what you're hunting?"

For a moment, no answer came.

"One question at the time, Sam," Harry said amused.

"Right. You know what you're hunting?" Sam tried again.

-Yes- -R-E-A-P

"A Reaper?" Harry asked incredulously.  
"Like a Grimm Reaper? Death?"

Sam nodded, but he didn't bother to reply in words.

"Dean… is it after you?" he asked instead.

-Yes-

The affirmative answer had both occupants in the room gasp in shock and they looked at each other for a short moment, panic growing in their eyes.

"… If it's here naturally, there's nothing we can do," Sam whispered, terrified.

Harry shared the sentiment. He looked up startled when Sam suddenly stood up and moved towards the door.

"No. No, there's got to be a way. Dad'll know what to do," Sam spoke up as he walked out.

Harry sighed and moved to sit in the spot that Sam had just vacated. He blinked a few times, his eyes squinting to capture a glance of the spirit sitting across from him. He smiled at Dean and he thought he could see the spirit smile back, but he couldn't be too sure.

"We'll get you back. Sam and I, and your dad, we won't stop looking for a way until your dead. Knowing Sam, not even then."

They didn't have to wait long before Sam arrived back with the small leather book in his hands. Harry stood up and walked over to where Sam leaned against Dean's bed, looking through the pages.

"So dad wasn't in his room, but I got his journal, so who knows? Maybe there's something in there."

Harry frowned at that, confused and a more than a little angry that the man seemed to have abandoned his own son in his time of need. He certainly hoped that John had a good reason to leave without a word at a time like this, but there wasn't anything he could do.

Sam laid the book down on a page about Reapers. Harry reading over his shoulder as he felt Dean's presence nearing as well, probably reading as well. A sudden surge of anger ran through Harry without any proper reason for it and he tensed. Shortly after, Dean's presence was gone from the room.

"And he walked out," he muttered frowning.

"He did? Why?" Sam asked confused.

"Dunno, but he was angry when he left."

Sam stayed quiet for a little while, staring down on the little book a bit longer before closing it again and looking over to Harry.

"I doubt we can find anything in there. What about those friends of yours?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised they aren't here yet."

. . . . .

Dean opened his eyes and surged forward with a loud gasp. Startling both occupants in the room. Sam rushed to the bed, calling Dean's name as he went while Harry approached a bit more sedate.

"Dean?" Sam asked hurried before turning his head towards the half open door.  
"Help! I need help!" he screamed.

A nurse walked in to see what was going on, her eyes growing wide at the sight of Dean awake as she rushed back out, calling for the doctor.

As the doctor arrives, he takes his time to look Dean over completely, muttering to himself about miracles as he does so. He moved away again for a little moment to talk with the nurse in hushed, hurried tones. Sam didn't pay much attention to them, instead, he leans closer to his brother.

"How did you stop the Reaper?" he asked quietly.

"What Reaper?" Dean asked confused.

"The one that was after you… don't you remember?" Sam asked.

"I remember the car crash and then… nothing," the oldest brother shrugged helplessly.

They shut up again as the doctor returns, looking over Dean a second time, this time with the help of the nurse. Harry frowned. It seemed they couldn't understand how Dean could have possibly woken up, but hadn't the doctor said himself that it was possible for Dean to recover?

His confusion was gone when the doctor revealed that all of Dean's injuries had healed completely. Something like that just didn't happen at all, Harry knew that well enough. Not even wizards could heal that quick… or maybe they did. He wasn't entirely sure how it all worked. He wasn't a Healer after all and if they could make his bones grow back, why shouldn't they be able to save Dean? But why hadn't they talked to Harry yet if they were really here?

"It seems you got some kind of angel watching over you," the doctor told Dean smiling.

Harry grinned too. He'd never seen any proof of angels existing, but if demons did, he liked to believe that so did they. He still thought there was more chance it were wizards than angels, but the sentiment was still nice.

The doctor smiled one last time at the healed man on the hospital bed before he left them to tend to his other patients. As soon as the man was gone from the room, Dean turned back towards his brother.

"So you said a Reaper was after me?" he asked.

"Yeah. You really don't remember any of it?" Sam replied with his own question.

"No, nothing. Except this pit in my stomach… Sam, something is wrong," Dean spoke.  
"We have no idea what saved me, or why. Things like that usually don't happen for free."

"Maybe it were Harry's friends," Sam replied as he turned a questioning, hopeful gaze on the teen.  
"You said you wrote them to ask for help, right? Did they really come?"

"If they did, then without me knowing," Harry said.  
"I'll go look around. See if I can find them."

Harry turned away and walked out the door at exactly the same time as John entered. The teen nodded in greeting at the man, who just glared at him and huffed as he joined his sons, slamming the door behind him. Harry frowned at the closed door for a short moment, wondering if he should stay and listen in if John was that set on him not hearing the conversation, or if he should stick with his original plan and look for wizards. In the end, he decided on the second option and walked away.

. . . . .

Harry was scowling when he arrived back to the rooms. No sight of any magic anywhere, and that honestly worried him. he wanted to go back to Dean and tell the brothers it must have been something else that had saved him, but as he passed John's room, he saw the man talking with a strange man with yellow eyes. Harry gasped and rushed in, his and raised threateningly.

"What are you doing here?!" he asked the demon.

"Cashing in a deal," the yellow eyed monster replied amused.  
"Really, Harry. You should try to stay out of dangerous business that has nothing to do with you."

"Like hell I'd let you walk around if there's anything I can do to stop it!" the teen hissed.

He tensed as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and he turned his head to find John looking down at him with a grave expression. His own green eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

"Dean…" he mumbled as understanding washed over him.

"Just leave it, kid," John told him quietly.

"I-I can't…"

"You can and you will, kid. I made my choice. Just go outside, there's no need for you to see this."

Harry nodded sadly and slowly moved away, giving one last guilt ridden, sad look at John before he walked out. Harry slid down the wall next to the room and buried his head in his hands as he waited.

The dull sound of something heavy dropping down on the ground reached his ears shortly after and Harry let out a sob. He gripped his own hair as tears slowly started trailing down his cheeks. John was dead. The man had made a deal with the demon he'd been hunting for 22 years because Harry, again, couldn't save anyone close to him.

"Harry?"

Harry tensed as he heard Sam's worried tone and curled deeper into himself. He didn't want to face him. He didn't want to face anyone, but especially not Sam as he'd failed both his brother and his father now.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Sam asked again.

The young wizard didn't reply, instead, he jerked a thumb towards John's room, listening as Sam moved to see what was going on. He gasped as he saw his dad and dropped the cup of coffee he'd been carrying before rushing inside the room.

"Dad!"

Harry tightened his grip on his own legs and curled deeper into himself. Why couldn't he ever save anyone?


	10. Kick in the Teeth

**This is a bit of a short chapter, so apologies for that. Also, it might take a while before next chapter is out. It will come, i promise, but... patience. It'll take a while.**

 **To PWAAH: Thanks for pointing out my error in the last chapter. I changed it :) If you see any others like that, you can always tell me.**

* * *

Harry was standing a bit to the side as Dean and Sam burned their father's remains. He felt like crying, even though he never even knew the man that well, and what he did know about John wasn't exactly heartwarming. Still, he was a good, honest man, and he had died saving his son's life because Harry was _again_ unable to help. He felt so useless at times like these.

When the fire was going down, Dean turned around and walked up to Harry. The teen didn't dare look at the hunter that had taken him in and instead kept his gaze firmly on the ground. Guilt flooded him as Dean's shoes came into his line of vision and he swallowed.

"I'm so sorry for your-" he started quietly.

Before he could finish his apology, a fist connected with his cheek and Harry went down with a shout. He sat on his knees, rubbing his bruising cheek as he stared up at Dean with wide eyes in shock. The hunter just looked back at him with anger and hatred in his dark green gaze.

"Dean!" Sam shouted surprised, but his brother didn't hear him.

"Was this your game plan all along? Was it?!" the oldest still-living Winchester asked heated.  
"Sell us some crap about a shitty life and act all sweet and innocent so you could get to our dad?"

"I-I didn't-" Harry started in a whisper, but Dean cut him off immediately.

"I knew I should've trusted my instincts!" he ranted angrily.  
"There's no such thing as a fucking natural magic user! So what did they promise you, huh kid? Fame? Power? Money? What's worth selling us out for? Selling your own goddamn soul?!"

Harry was on the verge of tears at the accusations, but he swallowed them down angrily. Dean had no right to accuse him of these things! Harry never even once did anything to warrant this kind of treatment from them and just lost their dad or not, he wasn't going to lie down and take it. He stood back up and stared at Dean with a defiant glare in his bright green eyes.

"I never bloody lied to you!" he yelled.  
"I did everything I could to help! So I knew what he was doing, but that doesn't mean I could bloody stop him! I don't know if you noticed, but your family is so fucking stubborn it's useless to try and change your minds!"

"And you think I'm going to believe you?" Dean growled.  
"My dad is _dead_! And I'm really fucking sure you're the one that sold him out. Didn't you say your friends were here and that they saved me?"

"You did say that, didn't you?" Sam asked quietly, eyeing Harry distrustfully.

"I thought they did, but apparently not!" Harry argued desperately.

"Bull!" Dean shouted furiously.

"Fine! Don't believe me!" Harry screamed back, tears now freely streaming down his face.

He turned around and took off, back to the little house they were staying at. Neither brother made a move to stop him as Harry disappeared between the trees. Instead, they stayed and watched the last remains of their father turn to ashes. Sam did look at where Harry had gone off to guiltily, but just as his brother, he had his suspicions about Harry. Why else would he have taken so long to tell them what he was if he wasn't hiding other things?

As Harry arrived at the shack, he tensed. His wards were all down, even after all the work he'd put into them, something or someone had taken them down without alerting him. For a short moment, Harry hesitated, wondering if he should turn back and warn Sam and Dean, but he shook the thought off. They wouldn't believe him anyway.

Making up his mind, Harry took out his wand and stepped into the house cautiously. Slowly, he snuck towards the main room, where he and the brothers had made themselves at home for the time being. He could hear voices coming from inside, some of which, he was all too familiar. Harry tensed. This was a bad idea. They'd found him and they were going to take him back. He turned around, planning to run back to the Winchesters, beg them to let him stay with them if he had to, but he wasn't giving the chance as he ran straight into another body.

"Running again, Potter?" a gruff voice asked him.

Harry swallowed nervously and took a few steps back. He managed to lift his wand halfway up before it was ripped from his grasp with a silent expeliarmus. His eyes grew wide in panic as he stared at the old, war hardened man in front of him.

"Well?" the scarred man asked impatiently.

"… Moody…."

. . . . .

"Harry's not here," Sam announced as he walked back into the main room.

The whole place was taken apart and nearly everything of Harry's was taken away. Only a few things they'd bought him during their travels were still there. Another pang of guilt ran through Sam as he thought of the teenage wizard, alone and afraid, under attack from God knows who. If only they hadn't sent him away…

"Good," Dean huffed and continued packing.  
"The kid sold us out. He can burn in Hell for all I care."

"We don't even know that for sure!" Sam argued.  
"And even if he did. I know he feels terrible about it. That kind of sorrow can't be faked, Dean! He's just a kid. I think he deserves at least to be listened to."

"Fuck no!"

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but a knock on the front door had him shut up. As the brothers grabbed for their guns, they could hear the door swing open and heavy footfalls made their way through the hall. As Bobby Singer appeared in the doorway, both relaxed.

"You boys alright?" Bobby asked, eyeing the mess warily.

"Just peachy," Dean growled sarcastically.

"This is what we came back to," Sam muttered.  
"Everything thrown over and Harry missing."

Bobby tensed.

"The kid's gone?" he asked worried.

"Good riddance," Dean snorted.  
"He killed our dad, I just know it!"

"No he didn't ya idjit!" Bobby growled.  
"Knowing your daddy, he did that all by himself. Besides, Harry's not the type."

This had both Winchesters frown in surprise and confusion.

"You know something about him?" Sam asked curiously.

"After that whole thing with the demon, I called up a contact of mine in the Wizarding World. Apparently, Harry Potter is some sort of messiah to them. S'posed to kill an evil overlord," the old hunter told them.  
"I hope for you two knuckleheads he wasn't found by any Death Eaters, 'cause if they have him…"

Sam was staring wide eyed at Bobby, fear and guilt swirling in his brown eyes as he started trembling a bit. Dean wasn't doing much better. The oldest brother had buried his head in his hands and was spouting profanities under his breath.

"We need to find him," he stated as he looked back up, staring at Bobby desperately.

"Aint nothin' we can do now, boy," the old man huffed.  
"Kid's probably back in Britain right now, far out of reach for all of us."

"Then we go after him!" Sam said resolutely.

"And look for him where exactly?" Bobby asked.  
"Look. I'm all for setting your stupid mistake right too, but there's no way we can find any wizarding colonies out there, let alone get them to lead us to Harry. The kid's on his own for now."

"What about your contact?" Sam asked desperately.

"Can't help us on that either. My friend is a Squib, can't do magic, and got kicked out of the family for it. He just knew about Harry since he was still in the know till ten years ago."

"Fuck!" Dean cursed.  
"So what do we do now?"

"What we always do. Research. Until then, I suggest you boys buckle up and get your heads back in the game. There's a war comin'."

Sam and Dean nodded gravely at Bobby's words. He was right. They had their own problems right there with the demon still walking free with the Colt this time and more and more demons roaming around. They'd get to Harry when they knew more, but until then, they had no choice but to do what they always did. Hunt.

* * *

 **To Hocupontas and KorianneAnders: Sorry...**


	11. England

**Yes, I know it's been long, and I sincerely apologize, but this is a slow story. Again, I apologize.  
Sadly, I've been having major troubles with the site I used to watch SPN, and someone suggested another, which worked for about one episode. I've finally found a solution, but here is an original chapter.**

 **A little clarification on the former chapter:**

 **Bobby's contact is American, so even though he knew about Harry, he's never been to Diagon Alley or to Platform 9 ¾, which is why he couldn't help with finding Harry. I guess it was a bit confusing, sorry.**

* * *

"It's been a year."

Sam looked up at his brother, scowling as he observed him. Dean was sitting on his bed, cleaning his weapons, frowning deeply. He looked so focused that Sam almost thought he'd imagined Dean talking. Almost, had it not been for those exact words. The younger brother didn't need to ask what had been a year of course. He knew. It had been exactly a year since their father died and they had chased Harry out. A whole year plagued with guilt for the both of them.

"Bobby promised to call as soon as he knew more," Sam told his older brother.

Dean stopped what he was doing to glare at Sam instead.

"And when's that, huh?" he growled.  
"Harry begged us not to make him go back, and now he's back! The kid was terrified of that place, and he regularly helped us face off against all kinds of monsters!"

The oldest of the two hunters sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"What if we gotten him killed?" he asked muffled.

"Harry is strong, and if his stories are real, he survived a lot more," Sam soothed.  
"We'll find him in time, don't worry, Dean."

Dean looked at Sam and nodded reluctantly. Sam sighed. He could see from Dean's scowl that he didn't really believe his younger brother, but Sam couldn't fault him for that. He didn't even believe his own words, so why should Dean?

Suddenly, Sam's phone rang. The youngest Winchester picked it up and raised a brow as he saw who was calling him.

"It's Bobby," he told Dean.

"Put him on speaker," his brother demanded immediately.

Sam nodded in agreement and pressed the button to pick up.

"Bobby?" he asked in greeting.

 _"_ _My contact just got back to me,"_ the gruff voice of the veteran hunter said.  
 _"He was able to find some British Wizarding Ministry official and weasel Harry's address out of him."_

"You found him?" Dean asked hopeful.

 _"_ _It aint that easy,"_ Bobby sighed.  
 _"Word is, the kid's been missing for a couple months now."_

Dean cursed loudly and slammed his fist in the wall, scowling angrily. Sam frowned as well. This was their fault. If only they had given Harry a chance to explain, if they had believed him when he told them it wasn't him. Now, the kid was even missing in England.

"Can we at least visit his family or something?" Sam asked hopeful.  
"Maybe we can figure out where he's gone. We can help him!"

 _"_ _I got the address they used to live at till early this summer,"_ Bobby replied.  
 _"But apparently, his relatives all took off one day, leaving Harry on his own."_

"Then we check out that place!" Dean said resolutely.

"There might be some clues left," Sam agreed nodding.  
"We'll meet you at the airport, Bobby."

. . . . .

The neighborhood looked as apple pie as a neighborhood could be. Every single house was exactly the same, with a nice, well-cared for garden in the front and neatly painted front doors and mailboxes. Most of them where either white of light blue, but some 'more daring' families had painted them red or even green. Dean hated it.

"Here it is, Privet Drive number 4," Sam sighed pointing at the house with the brown door.

Dean glared at the door before stopping the rented car and walking up to the porch. He rang the doorbell while Sam slowly followed after him. As they had expected, no one answered the door. Dean looked around himself and took out his Lockpick set from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"The neighbor's watching us," Sam hissed, motioning towards the house next door with a nod of his head.

Dean glanced over, seeing the old lady staring at them through the window. She was holding a cat, and Dean could see two other felines sitting on the windowsill. He smiled and waved at her, to which the woman replied by shutting her drapes. She had the only uncared for garden and the paint of her door and windows were chipping off.

"She won't know we don't actually have a key," Dean said shrugging as he tried the door.

To his surprise, he found it unlocked and he gave a soft chuckle.

"Looks like I won't need this anyway," he said grinning, pocketing his lock pick set again.

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed past Dean into the dark hall. They slowly moved in further into the house, looking at the pictures of an obese boy standing between an even fatter man and a horse-faced woman who looked almost anorexic and had a very long neck.

"Must be the relatives," Sam muttered.

"If I had to live with people like that in a house like this, I'd run away too," Dean muttered scowling.

"Or maybe he took off because a maniacal serial killer was targeting him," Sam shot back.

"I guess it could be both," Dean replied smirking.

Sam rolled her eyes and walked up the stairs to see if anyone was there while Dean checked out the first floor. There were four doors upstairs. The first two leading to the master bedroom and another pretty large bedroom with several old, broken toys laying around.

The next door Sam checked was the bathroom, which was empty and meticulously cleaned, though at this point it had collected some dust from disuse. The last door had, to Sam's surprise, about six padlocks, all currently unlocked. Slowly, scared to find what he thought he'd find, Sam pushed open the door. The sight of the small, creaky bed with a scratchy blanket, chipping paint, moldy wooden floorboards and an old desk and closet made his heart sink in his chest.

Slowly, he walked inside and looked around. Nothing spoke of any personality of the person who'd occupied this place. It smelt inside, and when Sam took a closer look at the desk, he could see why. Bird poop and old feathers, all around a very neat circle. Sam guessed that was where Hedwig's cage had been. A quick peek in the closet only showed a few extra sets of oversized shirts and too big, worn jeans together with holey socks and an five homemade sweaters that looked to be the only proper pieces clothing in there hadn't it been for the fact that all of them were too small. The biggest only barely, but the smallest was that for an elementary school kid.

"Sam!"

The brunette left the room with a sad sigh and walked back downstairs where his brother was waiting for him. Dean was scowling deeply and if Sam didn't know his brother better, he'd say he looked worried and disturbed.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

Instead of replying, Dean opened the small door of the cupboard under the stairs and nodded inside. Curious, Sam peeked in, his eyes widening when he saw the sleeping cot lying innocently in the far back of the small space.

"You don't think he used to sleep in here, right?" Dean asked lowly.

"If he did, he hasn't in a while. I found his bedroom upstairs," Sam replied.  
"Six extra locks and signs where bars used to stand in front of the window."

Dean cursed and drug his hands through his hair.

"If I find those relatives of his, I'll fucking kill them!"

"You and I both," a tired male voice spoke up behind them.

The Winchesters turned around quickly, their guns cocked and aimed at the chest of the ragged-looking man standing near the front door. Dirty blond hair fall in front of his eyes as dull, sunken amber eyes with large bags underneath stared at the duo curiously.

"You're the Winchester brothers, right? Harry told me about you," he said.

"Yeah… Are you Remus? The guy that send him to the States?" Sam replied.

"I am. And I guess that since you two are here, that means you've realized your mistake I hope?"

The brothers nodded with guilty expressions, making Remus smile.

"He said you'd come around," the man mumbled smiling.  
"Harry always has a lot of trust in people. It's one of his best qualities."

"Is he alright? Can we see him?" Dean asked softly.

"I'm afraid not," Remus sighed, going back to looking very tired and sad.  
"We… were attacked by Death Eaters a few weeks ago. Harry and two of his friends escaped and disappeared. He's being hunted down now, marked as undesirable no 1."

"Those Death Eaters are the followers of that Vol-" Dean started, but was cut off as Remus darted forward and pressed a hand over his mouth.

"Don't say his name," the wizard demanded frantically.

"Harry said a lot of you were scared of his name. Why's that?" Sam asked confused.

"Usually, it's superstition," Remus replied, taking his hands back and wiping them on his jacket with a disgusted frown.  
"However, You-Know-Who has put a taboo spell on his own name."

"A what?" Dean asked dumbly.

"A taboo spell. Thanks to that, he'll know when someone speaks his name and he can send out Death eaters or snatchers to arrest whoever spoke it."

"Talk about paranoid," Dean muttered.

Sam scowled. They were getting far off topic, and he didn't like it. They were here for Harry, not talk about some insane killer that seemed to be taking over Wizarding Britain.

"Where is Harry? What's he doing?" he wanted to know.

"He's looking for a way to defeat You-Know-Who," Remus replied.  
"I don't know where he is. I doubt anyone does. A lot has changed around here since you last saw Harry. Dumbledore is dead, and we are at a full blown war. Death Eaters have already taken control of the Ministry and You-Know-Who is hunting and killing muggles left and right."

"There needs to be something we can do to help," Sam said resolutely.

"I don't think there is," Remus sighed, shaking his head sadly.  
"This is a war between wizards. No matter the guns you carry, you'll always be at a strong disadvantage. You-Know-Who has a lot of dark creatures backing him, a lot of those you probably won't even know exist."

"Try us," Dean challenged.

"Trolls and Giants have already made their alliances clear and in favor of the Dark Lord, as have most werewolves. The Centaurs and Vampires chose to stay neutral," Remus said calmly.  
"One of our people works with Dragons in Romania, he said even there Death Eaters are trying to recruit dragon trainers in hopes to get a few dragons on their side as well."

"Dragons?!" Dean sputtered shocked.

"Like I said, you won't be of much help," Remus said.  
"I know you two want to find Harry, but right now, if he's found, it will be his death."

"We can't go back home like this!" Sam exclaimed.  
"At least… if you see him, at least tell him we're sorry."

Remus smiled gently at them.

"He already knows you are, but when I do, I will," he replied.  
"Which reminds me. He told me to give you a message."

The Winchester brothers perked up at that and looked at the wizard expectantly.

"He wants you to know that he'll fulfill his destiny, and after, he'll come back to you."

"Come back to us? After what we said to him?" Dean asked shocked.  
"The kid can do better than us. He deserves that normal live he wants."

"He said you might say something like that," Remus chuckled.  
"But to Harry, a normal live is one with a family. He has me and his friends, but he says he only ever felt like he belonged with Sirius. Until he met you two. He hopes that you two feel the same, he sees both of you as the family he never had."

Remus probably couldn't have said anything that could have shocked and flattered the brothers more than that. They hadn't expected Harry to think so fondly of them. It was probably the first time anyone ever did, now that they thought about it.

"He also wanted me to tell you that he has a 'saving people thing' and he prefers to do that the same way you do instead of having to work for a corrupt government."

"We'll be waiting for him to come back, then," Sam said smiling.

"Tell the kid he better shapes up. We won't go easy on him when he comes back," Dean added.

Remus chuckled and nodded in agreement. He tipped his head at the hunter duo and started walking back out of the house. Before he was able to leave, Sam had stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"When we found out Harry was gone, it looked like there was a struggle," Sam said.  
"We were scared the Death Eaters had gotten to him, but if it was the Order, what did they do to him?"

"I don't know," Remus replied, smiling bitterly.  
"They intercepted Hedwig before she could reach me and send Moody and a few others to retrieve him. Since they figured out I was the one to send him to America, they didn't let me near him. In fact, I hadn't seen him until a few weeks back when we came to pick him up here. He refused to talk about it, but his friends said that the first two months of school after he was returned, he was very quiet and jumpy. He even flinched back from touch. They thought it was something that happened in America, but when I asked about it, he said it wasn't."

"Moody," Dean growled angrily.  
"I'll remember that name."

"That will only be useful if you plan on visiting Hell," Remus deadpanned.  
"He died when the Death Eaters ambushed us when we took Harry away from this place. So did Hedwig. Harry was inconsolable for a long while."

That left the Winchesters quiet again. The bird had grown on both of them during the time they'd traveled together, and while Dean had always been angry with the bird whenever it sat on top of his car, he really liked the feathery companion of their charge a lot.

"I suggest the both of you leave here soon," Remus told them as he wrapped his jacket closer around himself and stepped out the house.  
"I sincerely doubt that I'm the only one keeping an eye on this place and I don't think the Death Eaters or the Order will be as hospitable."

"Let them fucking try," Dean growled darkly, but Sam grabbed his shoulder and started steering him outside.

"We're leaving already," he said.  
"Take care of Harry, alright Remus?"

"Until my very last breath," Remus promised before he popped away.

Dean shook his head and walked back to the Impala, his brother right behind him.

"Let's go back to the airport," Sam said.  
"There isn't anything we can do here."

"Great. Flying again," Dean grumbled.

* * *

 **I've been thinking on ships for this story, and I'm still going back and forth between none, Dean/Harry, or Dean/Harry/Sam. So let me know what you guys think! You can also suggest other ships if you want.**


	12. AN PLEASE READ THIS

**I'm sorry. I know everyone hates Author's Notes, but this is really important, so please give me a chance to explain.**

I have come to a very unfortunate conclusion yesterday, that will likely not sit well with most of you. I realized I can't continue writing my stories.

The reason is actually quite simple: Writing isn't just a hobby to me, it's my life. It's the only real outlet I have. My entire life, I've lived in my head, and that won't ever change. The outside world is only one thing to me, and that is the cause of stress. However, through writing I could open up in ways I never could in any other way and I have been using it since I learned how to write.

I actually still have stories lying around I made when I was seven years old, and I still read them every now and then when I feel particularly nostalgic. But that's not the point.

The point is that I lost that part of myself lately. Over the past couple of months, I've been feeling miserable and strung out and I lost all my will to continue. Writing had become a _cause of stress_ instead of a _stress reliever_. I didn't write what _I_ wanted anymore and instead I started writing what I thought others would want to read.

My stories have become empty to me. They don't fill me with the sense of pride and accomplishment they used to.

I have always told myself that I don't care about what others think of my writing, that I write for _me_ , but that hasn't been the truth in over a year. I started looking for praise to make myself feel better about the hollowness my stories instilled inside me, but all it did in the long run was suck me dry.

I need to rediscover my love for writing again, and that can only be done in one way:

I need to stop posting them. At least for now.

No, this isn't goodbye forever. I'll start posting my stories again eventually, but I can't tell you with certainty when. Maybe it'll take months, maybe it'll take years. All I know is that it won't be soon. I need time to find the meaning of my stories. Of my _Life_.

I hope you can all understand this is important, and that I am not doing this out of spite or anything like that. You have all been nothing but supportive and kind, and I am truly grateful for all you have done for me.

I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you in return.

I **will** come back eventually, but I can't promise I'll come back specifically to this story, so instead, I'll post all of the ideas I had for the continuations of them. Perhaps one day, I'll be able to finish them, or someone else will take them over. These stories I shared with you aren't truly mine anymore anyway. They're _yours_ now.

Please take care of them for me. I put part of my being in them, no matter how small a part it was. I put my heart and soul in every single word I put out for you guys.

I love you, and thank you.


End file.
